


A Journey To The Past

by LovelySheree



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Anastasia - Freeform, Anastasia AU, F/F, F/M, Fanfic, Jaron - Freeform, M/M, OC, Original Characters - Freeform, Rayllum, Romance, The dragon prince - Freeform, janaya - Freeform, lost princess, lovelysheree, ruthari, sara - Freeform, saraiah - Freeform, tdp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27889711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelySheree/pseuds/LovelySheree
Summary: An Anastasia AU.During an attack on the castle of Katolis, the daughter of Prince Callum and Rayla tragically disappeared. They searched for years, but never found her. After twelve years had past, it was clear the lost princess would never return home.All Sara wanted was to know her family, but at six years old, she was found washed up along the shore of a river with nothing but the clothes on her back an a locket around her neck. Her whole life, she felt drawn to the capitol of Katolis, as if her family was calling her there. When she’s kicked out of her adoptive home, what else is she to do? Maybe she was crazy, maybe she was just desperate to belong somewhere, but one thing was for sure. Come hell or high water, she was answering that call.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), OC/OC
Comments: 69
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**Journey to the Past**

It had been a joyous night in the castle. There was a grand dinner party and the room filled with laughter, dancing, and music. Family sat at the table and spoke enthusiastically to one another. The room was warm, it was happy. The castle often had evenings such as this.

But a lot could change in just a few moments.

Now, the castle was filled with fire and smoke. Curtains were set ablaze and windows shattered under the heat. Somewhere in the distance shouts of soldiers and clashing metal rang through the air while black billows of smoke began seeping into a room where a mother and father stood to protect their daughter. 

“It's _him._ He’s here,” the father spoke to the mother. The daughter watched nervously as her parents turned to her. They bent down and pulled her into their embrace.

“You going to go somewhere safe,” her mother said, pulling away to look fiercely at her, “And you need to stay there until we come get you.” The daughter nodded, tears forming in her eyes.

She felt her father’s hand cup her face as he wiped a single tear from her cheek. “I know this is scary,” he said calmly, his voice barely carrying through the chaos around them, “And it’s okay to be scared, but we need you to stay strong. We’ll be back to find you, okay?”

Her lip quivered while she sucked in a choppy breath. “I-I’m not s-scared,” she hiccupped.

A crash alerted them, and they turned to find a young boy racing down the hall. He had dropped a sword, one far too large for him to use effectively, and he struggled to pick it back up as he made is way towards them.

“M-my dad…” the boy heaved, “he-he told me to… to come find you.”

“Good,” the father spoke quickly. “I need you to take Saraiah and hide,” he explained. He stood up and pressed a stone on the wall. The large painting beside them eerily creaked open, revealing a hidden staircase that led under the castle. “Go straight down this path and take the second left turn, then turn immediately right. There, you’ll see a series of doors. Hide in any of those chambers and stay quiet.”

The young boy looked overwhelmed, “Do we have time to write it down?”

“Saraiah has been there before,” the mother explained. She turned to her daughter and smiled softly, “Remember where you hide when we play hide and seek?” The daughter blankly nodded before her mother pulled her in for a tight hug. “Go there. We’ll see each other soon,” she whispered.

The daughter clutched her mother tightly, even as she pulled away. She could hear her father urging them to leave and she felt the young boy’s hand on her shoulder. She was pried from her mother’s arms with tears falling sloppily down her face. “No!” she cried.

“We have to hide!” the young boy insisted, trying his best to hold her back. The daughter’s heart sank as she grasped her reality, staring hopelessly up at her parents. “Come on, quickly!” the young boy urged her.

“Wait!” she shrugged him off, quickly reaching for her necklace on the nearby dresser. She held it tightly to her chest. “Okay,” she whispered.

She followed the boy behind the painting. “We’ll see you soon!” she heard her father call after her. She turned to see her parents standing there, smiling solemnly at her. Then, her world faded into darkness as the hidden door closed with a soft _click._

* * *

_Twelve Years Later…._

“You good for nothing _leech!_ I provide a roof over your head, food for you to eat, and this is how you repay me? Can you do _nothing_ right?” the woman had yet to meet Sara’s eye. Instead, she kneeled on the floor and picked up the broken pieces of a vase.

“I’m sorry, I’m _really_ sorry,” Sara said repeatedly. She bent down next to the woman and reached to help her clean up the shattered mess, but she was only able to secure a single shard before the woman wailed and snatched the piece out of her hand.

“I think you’ve done _quite enough,_ girl. Get out of my sight—out of my _house!_ ” she placed the pieces she had picked up on the table above where she knelt, where the vase had once sat. Standing up, the woman turned and pointed a strict finger towards the door. “You’ve caused nothing but trouble since you’ve arrived and done little to help!”

Sara’s heart sank and she could feel the beginnings of tears form in her eyes. “And where am I supposed to _go_?” She asked, trying her best to keep her voice even.

“Back to the orphanage for all I care, so long as you’re not here,” the woman said with a fire in her eyes.

Behind her, there was a timid little boy standing half-hidden by a doorframe. The boy’s wide eyes met Sara’s and she remembered how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place. He had knocked the vase down himself while playing with his toys. Sara had been looking away for a few moments to add more wood to the stove and when she heard a crash, she whipped around to see the boy looking terrified at the mess before him. It hadn’t even been a second when they both heard the woman’s shrill voice as she made her way from another room. Sara ushered the boy away from the vase, telling him to hide in his room. She had seen this woman take out her temper on the boy before, and she’d be damned if she let her do it again over a silly vase.

Standing, Sara steadied herself and squared her shoulders. “Fine,” she said, “I’ll go get my things.” She walked a few steps down the hallway to a small room where there was a simple bed, a nightstand, and small chest. Opening the chest, she could feel the woman watch her as she grabbed her pack and began shoving what few belongings she had into it.

Throwing the pack over her shoulder, she stalked past the woman and right out the front door.

“Good riddance,” she heard the woman call after her, “Tell them to send a _capable_ girl or I want my money back!” And then the door slammed behind her.

There was a deafening silence for a few moments. It was the middle of autumn and the chilly evening breeze made her shiver as dead leaves rustled overhead. “Back to the orphanage?” she wondered aloud, a sense of dread filling her stomach upon the thought. The orphanage wouldn’t take her back, she was already eighteen years old. Besides, she didn’t _want_ to go back there, people were mean and made fun of her. She absently reached for her ears, gingerly brushing the tip of them with her fingers.

But where to go instead?

She felt the cold touch of metal on her chest and she reached for the locket that hung there. For the short time Sara lived here, she had hidden this from the greedy woman, knowing she would’ve taken it for herself had she known Sara had it. It was gold and silver and eagerly reflected the light of the moon.

She examined the locket and the carefully crafted insignia on the front. The symbol of Katolis. Flipping it over, there was a well-worn engraving of the castle. Over the years, she had run her fingers over it so many times that it was hardly recognizable anymore. She popped the locket open, reading the inscription for what felt like the millionth time. “ _Never forget that you belong,_ ” she read, _“Love, Mum and Dad._ ”

“Is that where home is?” she asked herself in a whisper, “Katolis?” She began to walk forward, and the leaves crunched under her feet.

The orphanage would certainly turn her away. Even if her family wasn’t there, perhaps she could make a life for herself in the capitol. Besides, she’d love the chance to see the royal family. She had heard so many heroic stories of how they had helped end the war between Xadia and the human kingdoms all those years ago.

Securing the locket around her neck once more, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and headed towards the heart of Katolis. Headed, perhaps, to her home.

* * *

Rayla stirred awake, blinking away the fog in her eyes. She sat up as quietly as she could, careful not to wake the sleeping figure beside her. Callum’s back was to her, his hair creased in awkward places from being against a pillow, and she could see his chest rise and fall in even breaths. These days, it wasn’t often they found sleep in the night, so a small part of her was jealous as she watched him peacefully lay there, but she knew there were nights when the roles were reversed. She sighed, letting her head fall silently against the bedframe behind her. There always had to be one of them up, worrying about things they can’t change. Worrying about _her._

Their daughter.

Was she out there? Rayla had lost count of the number of times she’d ask herself that question. A bitter part of his answered _no, of course not._ Yet she was always on her mind, and with every thought of her, a single thread of hope tugged dangerously at Rayla’s heart. Both she and Callum listened to that hope for years, desperately searching and wishing for their daughter’s safe return.

But in twelve years, she had yet to come home.

She slipped out of bed, or, she had _tried_ to before she felt a hand on her wrist. She turned to see Callum’s sleepy face twisted in concern. “Whe’er you goin’?” he mumbled sleepily.

Rayla smiled at the cute expression on his face, reaching over to tuck one of the many strands of messy hair behind his ear. Over the years, the rich brown had begun to fade and every once in a while, she would spot a gray strand. “I couldn’t sleep is all,” she whispered.

He didn’t let go of her hand, keeping her there as he looked intently at her. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I’ll get up with you,” he said finally, clearing his throat.

Rayla frowned at him, “Callum, no, you were sleeping just a few seconds ago.”

He sat up, letting go of her hand and rubbing his face. “Mhm, yes I was,” he said. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, and she wasn’t sure if he was attempting a sly expression or if he was still too tired to properly open them. He sagely raised a single finger into the air, “But there’s this thing called ‘waking up’ and it’s really neat.”

She gave him a flat look. So, it _was_ his attempt at a sly expression. “Callum, I really think you should rest, we have an important meeting with Queen Zubeia in the morning.”

He raised his brow at her and scoffed. “Hi kettle, this is pot, you’re black,” he said mockingly, swinging his legs out from under the covers and standing up to stretch. He grabbed a shirt from the floor where he had haphazardly tossed it last night and slipped it over his head. However, he must’ve been still a little out of it because he had somehow thrown the shirt on backwards with his head through one of the sleeves and his arms bent awkwardly, sticking out from the collar.

She scrunched her nose at him playfully, walking around the bed to help him straighten out the tangled mess he had gotten himself into. “So, you’re telling me,” she began, guiding his arms back through the collar and into the sleeves, “you can’t even put your shirt on straight, but you have a clear enough mind to be sassy?”

He mumbled a barely audible “thank you” from inside the shirt as his head found the neckline and he pulled it over himself, _successfully_ this time. “We both know it doesn’t take a clear mind for me to be sassy,” he said as he leaned forward to kiss her nose. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have Ibis make me some of his tea before the meeting,” he replied. “Besides, I could use a walk right now.”

“Right now? In the middle of the night?” she asked him as she stepped away to get into her own change of clothes.

He hummed in response, cursing under his breath as he shoved his foot into the wrong boot. “Care to join?” he asked, looking up at her.

While buttoning up her blouse she shook her head, exasperated, but amused, nonetheless. “Sure,” she said sarcastically, “ _Wonderful_ idea, hun. Can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it myself.”

He finished putting on his second boot and stood up, walking towards their balcony that overlooked Xadian ground. They were staying in a room at the Storm Spire for a few nights. As she finished getting dressed, Rayla watched as he carefully examined the surrounding cliffside before drawing a rune and releasing the spell. She heard the tumbling of rocks as she curiously made her way towards him.

He smiled broadly. “I have to admit,” he said while gesturing to the cliffside, “The earth arcanum has a lot of practical perks.”

She examined the neat path he had temporarily carved out of the mountain. It stretched down the base of the spire before disappearing into the orange treetops below. He hopped on to the path and extended his hand towards her. “Being married to a mage has its perks too,” she said, taking his hand and joining him.

They walked in the quiet of the night towards the base of the spire, neither quite willing to break the silence. It was a peaceful moment, and while the war may be over, peace was still a rare and valued commodity.

They continued, hand-in-hand, without speaking even as they reached the base of the spire. The season had begun to color the trees in wonderful shades of red, orange, and yellows. Autumn was Rayla’s favorite time of year, especially in Xadia, and it was enough to simply walk in silence with him and enjoy the scenery.

It wasn’t until the sun began to barely peek out from behind the horizon that Callum finally spoke. He took in a long breath before slowly letting it out through his nose. He squeezed her hand. “She’d be eighteen right now,” he said aloud.

There was no need for Callum to clarify who he was referring to. “Yeah,” Rayla responded emptily, “It’s been twelve years now.”

Callum nodded, and a silence fell between them once more. They could hear the birds beginning their morning song overhead, and light was starting to bleed through the canopy above them. “Sometimes I wonder,” Callum spoke softly, “What she’d be like.”

Rayla looked at him with half of a smile, her heart aching at the thought. “I do too,” she replied, her voice tight and thick with emotion. “She’d have been stubborn, that’s for sure.”

Callum laughed, “Yeah, she most certainly would’ve.” Rayla felt his thumb brush over the back of her hand.

“Remember when she and Ez snuck into the bakery and covered the entire kitchen with flower?” she remembered, laughing fondly. There was always a mixture of grief and joy when she thought back on those memories. Memories of _her._

Callum grinned, “Ez still claims it was an accident, and what the king says goes, right?”

Rayla hummed humorously, closing her eyes and imagining her face. She felt her chest tighten as she took in a shaky breath. “She had the softest hair,” she recalled, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. When she opened them, she found he was fighting back tears as well.

“Her ears were the cutest,” he said with a lopsided smile. “They just barely came to a point at the end,” he brought his hand up to touch his own ears, “And when she was a baby, they were so tiny.” Their slow stroll had come to a stop, and Rayla turned to look at him. He was still looking away from her, focusing on something far in the distance. “I miss her so much it hurts sometimes,” he confessed.

At one point in their lives, there was anger in those words. Anger for whoever took her away from them. Anger towards themselves for being unable to stop it from happening. Anger for not being able to find her again. And there was still anger now, but it no longer held the heat it once did. It was replaced by cold grief, longing, and bitter acceptance.

She reached for his face and gently pulled him to her, her fingers brushing his cheeks. “I know,” she whispered, feeling a few tears spill over. His eyes met hers wearily. It was a shared loss between them, something they could feel personally and in unison all at once. It pained her to think of their daughter, and it pained her knowing Callum felt the same way. They both wanted desperately to fix the other person, and yet they both knew there was no solving this.

He moved forward, resting his forehead on hers. It was all so much, and it always was. The crushing reality that they would never see their daughter again remained almost too heavy to hold. But it was something they helped each other hold.

She leaned up to kiss him softly, resting in his presence, grateful to have him. She felt his shoulders relax as he breathed out through his nose. Her hands slide to play with the curly hair behind his ears and at the nape of his neck. He moved to deepen the kiss, running his tongue across her bottom lip before gently tugging at it, but she pulled away.

“We should get back,” she whispered and quickly kissed him again, “Or else we’ll be late for the meeting.”

He shook his head, capturing her lips once more. “We’ll fly back,” he said in-between.

She laughed lightly, feeling his hands fall to her hips, “Well in that case,” she grinned, pulling him closer.

They were late to the meeting.

* * *

Sara had always loved the fall. The cool breeze and orange leaves made the world feel bearable. But right now, it was cold and dark outside, and she could feel her boots beginning to get wet. She wondered how long of a journey it would be until she’d reach the capitol of Katolis.

She knew it was a long way away. The home the orphanage sent her to was on the outskirt of the kingdom while the capitol was over several mountain ranges and there was a large body of water to cross. Both of which she was currently on the wrong side of. Which of course meant she had to walk _around_ it all or go _over_ it all. She could already feel blisters building on the bottom of her feet.

This was going to be a _long_ walk.

She hadn’t exactly thought this through entirely. But honestly, what other option was there? The orphanage would turn her away. She sighed, hugging her arms in a futile attempt to stay warm. She should rest and start a fire, she thought, no use in freezing to death.

She looked around for a relatively covered area. Just a few yards ahead, there was a large tree that loomed over a small patch of dry dirt. She quickly made her way to the tree and huddled underneath. She released a breath and watched it puff away into night sky. It was definitely cold tonight. Glancing at her muddy and wet shoes, she knew it would be near impossible to start a fire. The ground was sloshy from recent rainfall and finding dry kindling would be a miracle.

She let her head fall back against the trunk of the tree in frustration. If she didn’t get kindling, it would be a needlessly long night of shivering in the cold. She stood up, feeling her legs wobble under the effort. She felt exhausted. She examined the area around her in search of dry wood. It took her some time, but she was able to scrounge up a few dry twigs and some larger fallen branches. Reaching for her pack, she pulled out a small dagger. It was something the orphanage had given her when she first left. She had to walk to her “new home” on her own, and it was a two-day journey. This was yet another item Sara decided to hide from that wretched woman.

She whittled up a small pile of shavings before grabbing a rock and striking it against her dagger. Sparks flew into the air. She carefully aimed it at the kindling pile and prayed a spark would catch. After a few many attempts, she had successfully landed a hot enough spark to ignite the pile of shavings. She quickly bent down and gently coaxed the spark into a flame, letting loose a soft cheer as the flame caught the surrounding twigs and sticks.

She leaned back to admire her work, already hearing the crackle and pop of the wood. As she stretched out her numb fingers towards the heat of the fire, she felt a strange sense of de ja vu, a distant memory. Faintly, she could hear the sound of laughter and a single lute playing. She tightly shut her eyes, trying to chase the moment down, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had surfaced.

A memory from the life she once lived, she assumed. One she no longer knew or remembered. Although she doesn’t remember the events herself, she was told that someone had found her washed up on the shore of a river. Not knowing what else to do, they brought her to the orphanage. When she finally woke up, she had no memory of who she was or where she came from, just a vague idea of her name and a locket.

She frowned, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. No one knew who she was, and one had come looking for her. If she _did_ have family in the capitol, would they even want her back?

She shook her head. Now was not the time to get distracted by those thoughts. She should rest. She’d need all her strength if she wanted to make it to the next town by tomorrow. Her eyelids felt heavy as she laid down next to the fire. She watched the flames dance in the fire while she slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

She woke to the sound of hooves. Her eyes snapped open and looked around. It was still dark, and her fire had been reduced to hot coals. She stood up, panicking as the noise came closer and closer. She heard a voice yell something in the distance and she took that as her cue to hide. She grabbed her bag and ran behind a tree, clutching things close to her chest as she tried to steady her shaky breath.

“Over here!” she heard a low voice yell, followed by a whine of horse and stomping hooves. Suddenly, the horses were behind her. She could hear their snorts and chatter. “There’s a fire, it’s still warm.”

Sara fought back a groan. _Of course,_ she thought, _why didn’t I put out the fire?_ She mentally kicked herself, praying against all odds that they, whoever they were, wouldn’t find her.

“Someone was sleeping here,” a new voice says. “And recently too, look. These tracks are fresh,” it says. “Looks like they stood up and ran towards…” Sara could only imagine this person was looking directly at the tree she was hiding behind, “That direction.”

 _Oh no,_ she thought, her stomach dropping.

Footsteps approached her, and she knew she’d been caught. She looked around for an easy escape, but the only option was to run further into the woods. The ground was wet and covered in leaves, easy for _anyone_ to track. She’d stand no chance.

But she ran anyway.

“What the—” she heard from behind her as she took off. Her heart was beating so loudly that she could barely their cries and footsteps following after her. She weaved through the trees as quickly as she was able to until her lungs burned in her chest. She slid to a stop and ducked behind another tree.

It was quiet. No footsteps. No shouts. Just her pounding heart and gasping breath.

For a slip moment, she wondered if she was safe. But as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she heard a crunch of leaves and felt a hand grasp her shoulder.

“Gotcha!” the voice said, now close to her ear. She could tell it was a man.

Sara jumped out of her skin, trying to break free from their hold. “L-let go of me!” she yelled.

“Whoa—careful! I’m just trying to—”

Sara squirmed free, jumping away from the figure and beginning to run. She didn’t get far before she felt two large arms wrap around her and pull her to the ground. “Hey! Let _go_ of me!” she screamed, resisting his hold as much as she could.

“I’m—I’m just trying to help,” he grunted, grabbing her arms and pinning them above her head. “S-stop trying to run away!” She felt his knees on either side of her as he struggled to keep her still.

“I _said,_ get off me!” She yelled, scrounging up her remaining strength and kicking the stranger’s chest as hard as she possibly could. She heard a pained grunt, and he was sent flying backwards, cursing as he landed ungracefully a few feet away.

“ _Shit,_ that _hurt!_ ” he groaned, continuing to lay on the ground. She scrambled backwards and watched warily as he tried to sit up. With it being the dead of night, she could _hear_ the wince in his voice more than she could see it on his face. “My dad always said to never underestimate a girl but— _ah!_ I think you broke my _ribs_!” he clutched his stomach as his breathing came in short pained gasps.

For a moment, she felt a little guilty. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean—wait, why am I apologizing? _You_ snuck up on _me_ and grabbed me! Those broken ribs of yours, _if_ they are actually broken, should be a lesson to you!” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Okay, well, _lesson learned—_ whoa, hold up. What do you mean, ‘ _if they are actually broken?’_ Can you not tell I’m in pain?” he asks incredulously.

She scoffed, crossing her arms and scooting further away from him, finding her back against the trunk of a tree. “I didn’t kick you _that_ hard.”

He looked at her with a flat expression. “And I didn’t grab you that hard either,” he said plainly. He sat up further and tried to stand up. “I— _ouch_ —I was only trying to see if you were okay.”

“Well yes, I’m perfectly fine thank you very much. Now if you’d please leave me alone, I would greatly appreciate that.” She stood up herself, crossing her arms and looking around her for an escape route.

“Alone? Out here? Listen I don’t care how capable you are, it’s the middle of the night, it’s cold, and there’s no civilization for _miles_. Not to mention there is currently a gang of bandits in these woods which is, by the way, why I’m even out here—You know what? I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you. You’re clearly lost and delusional.” He clutched his stomach with one hand and stepped closer to her, one arm stretched out.

Her heart raced, with anger or fear she didn’t know. Maybe both. “ _Delusional?_ I may be a little bit lost but I’m _not_ delusional— _don’t come any closer!_ ” He had gotten himself within a few feet of her once more and she fumbled quickly for the dagger that was sheathed at her hip.

He froze. From this distance, she could make out his face. His eyes were a sharp blue and his hair, despite being a bit tousled from their skirmish, was neatly cut and styled. He wore what seemed to be light-weight armor which probably the reason she was able to kick him off of her. There was a familiar sigil on his breastplate, that caught her eye. _Katolis,_ she recognized.

When he sighed, her eyes bolted back up to his face and she clutched the handle of her dagger. “Okay, let’s restart. I’m Jaron, a member of the crown guard of Katolis and I _really_ just want to make sure you’re safe.”

She looked up at him and loosened the grip on his dagger. Perhaps he was trustworthy. Besides, she _was_ on her way to Katolis. “Of Katolis?” she asked skeptically.

His eyes lit up hopefully, “Yes, the Kingdom we’re currently in.” She saw him glance down at her hand that still laid on her hip where the dagger was. “Um, were you planning on _stabbing_ me? _Seriously?_ Haven’t you done enough damage already!?”

Again, that guilt swam around in her stomach for a moment. He really didn’t seem like a bad guy. “I, uh, I was planning on _defending_ myself. It’s up to you if you want to get stabbed,” she said guardedly.

“Right, right, I won’t get any closer,” he said impatiently. “Please just come back to the camp with me, alright? It’s just myself and two other guards. Let us at least take you to the nearest town.”

She watched him closely and looked him over once more, letting her eyes fall on the symbol on his breastplate again. “You say you’re a member of the crown guard? Does that mean you’ll be returning to the castle?”

He nodded, “Of course, but… why?” this time, he looked at her skeptically.

She let go of the dagger at her side. “Would you be willing to take me there?” she asked.

He hesitated for a moment before repeating himself, “Of course, but… _why_?”

“I think my family may be there,” she answered vaguely. But honestly, that was the entire truth. The only reason she wanted to get to the capitol was because her family _might_ be there.

“You _think?”_ he asked.

She sighed, reaching up to the necklace she wore and bringing it over her head. She held it delicately in her hand and ran a thumb over the worn golden symbol of Katolis. “I don’t know anything about my past, or anything about my home or my family. But I _do_ have this.” She opened the locket and read the engraving aloud, “ _Never forget that you belong_. And then it’s signed Mum and Dad.”

Jaron looked curiously at the necklace. “May I see it?” he asked, tentatively holding out a hand.

She met his eyes for a long moment, wondering if she should trust him. Her head said no, but something deeper, something larger, said _yes._ She glanced between him and her necklace before she gingerly held it out to him.

He took it carefully and examined it. “It’s beautiful,” he said absentmindedly.

“It’s the only piece of home I have,” she said sadly.

He looked up at her, surprised. He probably pitied her, she assumed. “Here, then you should keep it safe,” he said. He stepped closer to her and, after looking at her for permission, gently brought the locket over her head and placed it back on her neck. “I’ll take you to Katolis— _the capitol_ , I mean. Technically we’re already _in_ Katolis.”

“You will?” she asked while he stepped back.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. And if you’d like, I can even help you look for them. I personally know King Ezran and Prince Callum, I’m sure they’ll be able to help you find your family,” he said cheerily.

She scoffed, “Well that might be a bit overboard. I don’t think I need to involve the King or the Prince in my family business.”

Jaron shrugged, “It’s up to you, but believe me, they’d be happy to help. They uh, the Prince and his wife, they tragically lost their daughter years ago and they would give anything to have her back. I’m sure they’d do anything to help you find your family, too.”

Sara blinked, “Oh, that’s sad,” she said heavily.

There was more to the story, she could tell by the restrained look in his eyes, as if he were trying to cover-up his own memory. “It was a long time ago… I was too young to remember it, really. My dad says that they all took it incredibly hard, though. That they’ve not been the same since,” he explained before taking a sharp inhale and groaning. “ _Dammit,_ did you _really_ have to kick me so hard?”

Sara crossed her arms indignantly, “I really don’t think we should start that argument again.”

He scoffed, “Oh believe me, I know. But I’m seriously going to have to take it easy for the next few days.” He took a few steps back towards where he had come from. When he noticed she wasn’t following he turned back around towards her and nodded his head towards the edge of the forest. “Aren’t you coming? Let’s get you home, shall we?” He said as he offered her his hand. “Who knows, maybe _you’re_ the lost princess, huh?” he said jokingly.

She laughed at that, walking next to him but ignoring his outstretched hand. “Oh please. If our interaction has proven anything, it’s that I’m _far_ from being princess material.”

He glanced at her and gave her a wry smile, “I don’t know. You _do_ hold yourself with a certain… _dignity_.”

She frowned at him, “That doesn’t exactly feel like a compliment.”

He continued to grin, “That’s because it’s not— _ow!_ ” he shouted when she jabbed him in the side. “Once again, haven’t you hurt me enough already?” he asked her, edging away from her.

“You were forgetting the lesson I taught you,” she gestured to his ribs, “I was just reminding you.”

Jaron looked at her before he shook his head in bewilderment. “Right. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting it any time soon,” he winced. “Now come on, let’s get back to the horses and then back to camp. We’re going to need plenty of rest if we’re traveling back to the capitol.”

Sara smiled and hope filled her chest. This was it. This was where her journey truly started; where she would begin to retrace the steps of time and unravel the mystery of her past. She was finallygoing _home_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are finally with an update. I'd blame the holidays and what not for the delay, but honestly I was just playing a video game like a 12 year old and lost track of time. But here's the next chapter!

****

_(This image is not what she's wearing_ _right now in the story,_ _but_

_something she'll wear later on. But here's my drawn-up version_

_of Sara in The Dragon Prince style)_

**.**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Ezran strolled through the halls of the castle, his hands clasped behind his back, enjoying these few moments of silence. Sure, there were guards posted around every corner, and yes, even two trailing closely behind him, but that didn’t matter. Compared to how the rest of his morning had gone, this was incredibly peaceful.

There was more civil unrest in Katolis. Over the years it took him to grow into his role as a monarch, he learned civil unrest never truly died. There was always another injustice to fight, always another evil to thwart. Then again at the root of it all, it seemed the evil was always the same, it merely wore different faces.

_“Your Majesty, they’re abominations—”_

_“You watch your tongue!”_

Ezran felt his face twist into a frown at the memory of his earlier conversation. Yes, it seemed it was always the same evil, indeed. Human hatred was a disgusting inevitability. After the war ended between Xadia and the Pentarchy, there was a time of celebration and joy. Weddings and dances and feasts, all in honor of unity and wellness. Human and elf relationships began to be more common, _proving_ the possibility to unite both the Pentarchy and Xadia. But as their new normal began establishing itself into each day, evil festered.

He found himself face-to-face with the doorway to the throne room. He took a step forward as the guards opened the doors. They swung open to reveal a single figure standing in the middle of the room, their back turned. Ezran heard the doors shut behind him and he let loose a breath he had forgotten he was holding.

The figured turned.

 _Aunt Amaya,_ Ezran grinned, signing as he approached her. It was always such a relief to see his aunt, and though their relationship had often been from a distance, Amaya was probably the closest thing he had to a mother. Before he could sign anything more, Amaya had already embraced him in a tight hug. Even in her old age, she was just as strong as she’d always been.

She looked him up and down after she released him. _You’re looking more and more like your father each time I see you,_ she signed, smiling broadly.

Ezran scratched his chin playfully. _Maybe I should grow a beard,_ he laughed. _It’s good to see you,_ he softened, moving to sit down on his throne. As he did, he rubbed his face, heaving another sigh.

 _You seem stressed,_ Amaya signed worriedly.

Ezran nodded, _I am._

 _It’s not a good look on you,_ she smirked, and he laughed good-naturedly in response. _Is there something wrong?_ She asked as she approached him.

He hesitated at first. How to explain? Ezran was a fluent signer, sure, but this was something he’d have trouble talking about in any language. _My kingdom is angry,_ he signed.

 _Yes, but it is also healing,_ Amaya amended. _The war may have ended twenty years ago, but the cuts it made are still fresh._

Ezran sighed, frustrated. _The cuts aren’t healing, they’re becoming infected. There is hatred growing and I can’t stop it,_ he explained, his hands moving harshly through the air.

Amaya nodded slowly, peering at his face. _And what do they hate?_ she asked.

 _H-A-L-F-L-I-N-G-S._ Ezran’s fist lingered in the air, still positioned in the letter _S_. He watched as Amaya’s face hardened before continuing. _There are riots forming in the center of Katolis. They’re calling them freaks of nature, cursed children—_ he paused, cringing as his earlier conversation echoed in his mind once more. _A-B-O-M-I-N-A-T-I-O-N-S_ , he finished.

Amaya grit her teeth. _Where?_ She signed. Ezran frowned, confused. _The riots, where are they taking place?_ she clarified.

 _B-R-A-E-D-O-N_ , he spelt. _Near the port town,_ he explained.

Amaya nodded resolutely. _Allow me to travel through there on my way back to Xadia,_ she signed, _And I will send you a report._

Ezran recoiled, “What?” he said, surprised. Amaya was not as young as she used to be, though she was just as tough, it seemed. Even so, he was hesitant to give her permission. Braedon was dangerous right now. The rioters were not only violent towards halflings, but also towards anyone who spoke in their defense. And should Amaya travel through, Ezran imagined she’d speak her mind—even if it wasn’t verbally. _No way,_ he signed, _it’s too dangerous right now, and Janai would have my head if anything happened to you during your return._

Amaya frowned at his response, the wrinkles on her face pulling downward. _I may be old,_ she began as confidence seeped back into her features, _but I can still handle myself, nephew._ She wore a smirk, her chin tilted up, and Ezran couldn’t help but believe her. Though it did little to comfort him. _You know it,_ she continued, _And so does my wife._

Ezran ran a hand over his face. _That’s just it. Your ability to ‘help yourself’ is exactly what I’m worried about. The rioters will have your head if you enter their city speaking gospel._

Amaya shook her head, seemingly displeased. _‘We must defend peace at all costs.’_ She quoted, looking knowingly at him, _I believe those were the words of a wise, young king._

Ezran pursed his lips, unable to think of anything to say. And how would he with his own words thrown back into his face? He let his head fall back against his thrown with a soft _thunk_ , wondering if he had truly known what he was talking about when he was younger. He was naïve back then, wasn’t he? Over the years, defending peace had gotten… _exhausting._

But he hadn’t stopped defending it. And though he was tired, Amaya was right. Peace required a strong defense, and he hasn’t given up yet, so why start now? _Fine,_ he finally replied, _you can go through Braedon on your way home._

Amaya smiled broadly. Her thin (if not a little frail) frame bent towards him in a bow. _Thank you,_ she signed as she straightened up. _I will send a report as soon as I can. And don’t worry, I’ll stay safe. I’ll arrange a meeting with the governor and we’ll simply talk._

Ezran gave her a playfully disbelieving glance, _I’m sure. Should I send a few guards with you?_

Amaya shook her head, _The patrol I took from Lux Aurea is plenty of protection._

Ezran nodded, standing up, _Okay then. Let’s eat before our meeting with the guard, shall we?_

 _Wonderful,_ Amaya agreed, following him out of the throne room.

* * *

_She heard sounds of laughter echoing in the distance. As she looked up, she could make out a warm glow at the end of a long hallway covered in red and gold tapestry. She tried walking closer, but the hallway stretched further and further, and the walls grew closer and darker. The warm laughter turned into a sadistic roar and then she was running._

_The once red and golden walls morphed into wet stone dimly lit by a nearby torch. Her feet splashed through the cold puddles on the floor, echoing through the tunnel. Her heart hammered in her chest while she took in shaky breaths. Suddenly, she heard the sound of rushing water. Panicked, she turned around to see a wave tumbling towards her. She drew a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable._

_The water hit her in a cold rush. She felt her body violently tossed in its current. She tried to swim to the surface, but no matter where she moved, her hand hit solid stone. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire and her vision began to blur before—_

Sara gasped, her mind racing as she bolted upwards. She tossed the blanket aside and looked around frantically. Vaguely, she registered the sound of hushed voices around her. _Where am I?_ she thought, clutching her chest.

“—Whoa whoa, _relax,_ ” she heard from behind, turning to see a familiar face. Jaron was standing there, standing next to the other guard she had met last night. _That’s right,_ she remembered. She had run into Jaron last night and he had brought her back to his patrol after agreeing to take her to the capitol.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, running her hand down her face.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jaron replied walking towards her. “Kassani and I were just talking. The rest of the patrol can stay here while we go bring you back to Katolis.”

 _Back to,_ she thought. Had she truly been there before, years ago? She could only hope so. “We?” she asked.

Jaron pointed back towards Kassani, the woman she had met when she returned with Jaron the previous night. “Yeah. Kassani, you, me… oh and one other guard, Amose,” he explained, listing off the names with his fingers.

Sara nodded, still groggy from waking up. “Mmk,” she said slowly, folding her blanket and standing up. “I’m going to go to the stream to wash up. I’ll be back,” she said, excusing herself.

“Oh, okay. Well, when you come back don’t forget to grab some grub. We’re about to serve breakfast,” Jaron said as she walked away. She gave him a quick thumbs up in acknowledgement as she disappeared into the woods.

The stream wasn’t far from the camp. They had passed it last night while they rode in. Of course, it was later then and darker too, so she had to concentrate while retracing her steps. Things looked much different in the daylight. The gravel crunched under her feet as her arms swung loosely at her sides. She meandered a bit, enjoying the clear morning, before hearing the telltale sounds of trickling water. Following the noise, she made a quick beeline to the stream.

As she approached, she saw a figure sitting near the stream, fiddling with their weapon. Judging by the armor, she assumed it was another guard from Jaron’s patrol. She approached cautiously.

The figure looked up, meeting her eyes and Sara’s breath caught in her throat. It was a man with dark features, pointed ears, and horns emerging from his head. _A Sunfire elf,_ Sara realized.

The elf peered at her curiously and he momentarily stopped sharpening his blade. “You must be that girl everyone’s going on about,” he finally spoke.

Sara nodded, her brows furrowing. “You’re an elf,” she observed, surprised to see an elf representing a human kingdom, “I didn’t know there were elves in the Katolian Crownguard.”

“There are a few,” he responded, looking down and continuing to sharpen his sword. “But my father is a human. He was in the Crownguard himself when he was younger.”

“You’re a _halfling_?” Sara asked, eyes wide.

He looked up at her, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What, have you never seen one before?”

Sara shook her head, “No no, it’s not that. It’s just… The only halflings I’ve met have all been younger. I didn’t know…” she trailed off, unsure how to say it.

He sighed, and Sara wasn’t sure if it was one of relent or frustration. “Yeah, I was born during the tail end of the war—not a very popular time for halflings to be born. There aren’t many others my age, not that I’ve met, anyway.”

“Sorry, I hadn’t meant to—” Sara stopped, knowing she was only going to make this situation more awkward if she kept talking. “…Y-yeah,” she acquiesced, crossing her arms close to her chest. She reached a hand up to touch the tip of her ear as she played with it. It was a nervous tick; one she was painfully aware of. Some nights at the orphanage she’d go to bed with a bruised ear because she had been folding and pinching them nervously throughout the day.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her. He peered curiously before snorting and looking away. “You’ve got weird ears,” he commented.

Sara’s face lit up red. Angry and embarrassed, she jerked her hand away from her ear and violently pulled her hood over her head. Without even a glance back at him, she stalked off. She could find another area of the stream to wash up.

After she had angrily stomped over to a more secluded section of the stream and finished washing up, she could feel her stomach gnawing at her. _Good thing there’s breakfast ready,_ she thought while trudging over muddy grass. As her boots squished and slid through the mud, she wondered how she would have gotten herself a meal had Jaron not found her. She was good shot, so perhaps she would have fastened herself a bow. Or maybe she would have foraged. Her eyes swept her surroundings grimly. She had never been too great with foraging, she knew the more important information, but otherwise… Yeah, she probably would’ve found a way to make a bow.

 _But_ she didn’t have to make that decision, thank heavens. _And_ she no longer had to walk on foot, alone, to the capitol. She’d be riding horse back with her… acquaintances? She had met Kassani briefly when Jaron had brought them back to the horses after he’d found her. They hadn’t talked much, and by the time they reached the patrol’s camp, Sara was already half asleep on the back of Jaron’s horse.

Speaking of Jaron. She supposed he may be a friend, but she had only known him for, well, not even a whole day. Then again, it wasn’t like she had many experiences with friends throughout her life. In the orphanage, she had always been a bit of a loner. When she moved out and into her adopted home, she was only friendly with the little boy. _Ahal,_ she recalled his name, _I hope he’s safe._ Bitterly, she doubted it. That woman had a wicked temper.

She heard the hustle of the camp as she approached. Returning to where she had slept, she tucked away a few of her things. She stood and looked around, trying to locate where the food was being served. Her stomach growled as her eyes landed on a large pot, stoking over a fire and surrounded by a few guards. She quickly walked over, eager to eat.

One of the guards looked up from their bowl and peered curiously at her. “You’re that Sara girl, right? You’re on your way back to the castle.” He gestured to the pot, “Want some food?”

Sara nodded, “Yes please.” She watched as the guard picked up a bowl, scooping whatever the mush was into the bowl. She assumed oats of some kind. “And it’s _Sar-_ a,” she corrected and gratefully took the bowl.

“Huh?” the guard looked confused.

“My name. It’s _Sar-_ a. Like the word far? Or star? It’s not _Sair-a_ ,” she pointed to herself, “Sara.”

The guard laughed weakly. “Oh, uh… right. _Sara._ My bad,” he said.

“There you are! I thought I’d find you here,” she heard a voice behind her call. When she turned, Jaron was smiling and giving a quick wave in her direction as he neared.

She lightly lifted the bowl she held, “Thanks for the food.”

He shook his hand dismissively, “Plenty to go around, there no need to thank me. But, uh, I came to get you. Kassani and Amose, the other guard you haven’t met yet, are ready in the tent,” he pointed behind him towards tent that was much larger and distanced from the rest. “We’re ready to go over the game plan.”

Sara furrowed her brows, “Game plan?” she asked, confused.

Jaron looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head. “Uh, _yeah._ The game plan for us to take you to Katolis.”

Sara sighed, “No I get _that._ But what do we need to discuss? I thought the game plan was just to go…” she turned and pointed southwest, “that direction.”

Jaron shook his head, “No. It takes a bit more thought than just… moving in the right direction. Especially if we want to leave today.” He turned and began walking towards the tent, Sara followed closely behind.

“Sure, I mean, if you want to complicate things,” she huffed. “But to me, moving in the right direction seems like _moving in the right direction._ ”

“What about terrain? What about current roadblocks? Right now, these woods are dangerous so we can’t travel through in such small numbers. We need to find the _safest_ direction to the capitol, not just the _right_ direction.”

Sara grinned playfully, “What if we can outrun the bandits? I’ve always been pretty fast.”

Jaron looked sideways at her in an unbelieving glance. “Considering I ran after you, _caught up_ to you, and tackled you last night, I don’t know how convincing that argument is.”

Sara instantly frowned, “Hey! That doesn’t count. I was exhausted and half-asleep! Had I been well rested, you would’ve never caught me.”

They had reached the tent and Jaron pulled back the canvas to walk inside. “Yet another thing to consider while traveling,” he began in a sing-song voice, watching as she ducked under the canvas after him. “ _Exhaustion,_ ” he finished flatly.

Before she could respond, Kassani spoke. “There you two are. Amose and I have been talking. We think we’ve come up with an easy route.”

Sara turned her attention to the two guards standing over a table with a large map stretched across it. Kassani, the one who spoke, was already looking back at the map and tracing her finger over it. Sara turned her attention to the other guard, Amose, and prepared to introduce herself. Her eyes trailed up to his face. He had a dark complexion, pointy ears, and two horns emerging from his head— _oh._

Sara’s eyes met his and she could feel her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Nice to see you again,” Amose spoke evenly, but there was an amused sparkle behind his eyes.

“Oh, you two have met already?” Jaron asked as he approached the map.

Amose crossed his arms, continuing to look at Sara. “Not properly, no.”

Sara looked away, approaching the others at a painstakingly slow pace. She glanced back up at Amose to see that he was still looking expectantly at her. _Your name, you idiot!_ she berated herself. “Sara,” she said quickly, extending her hand.

He took it. “Amose,” he replied, shaking it.

“Sorry… about earlier,” Sara cringed, reaching up to play with her ears again before stopping mid-gesture.

Amose shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry if I upset you in return,” he said while gesturing towards her ears.

“Eh…” Sara shrugged, unsure what else to say. She wondered if her face was as red as it felt. To say she felt a little awkward would be putting this situation _very lightly._ She hadn’t meant to offend him; she was just truly surprised that halflings his age existed. Then again, questioning the plausibility of one’s existence may feel a bit… insensitive. 

Jaron peered between curiously them before shaking his head. “Okay, well, _anyway._ Amose is one of our most _experienced_ guards,” he said, casting Amose teasing smirk.

Amose turned to Jaron and frowned. “You do realize I’m only eight years older than you…”

“Which is why we’ve chosen you to join us. We could really use your _experience,_ ” Jaron said.

Amose placed a hand to his chest, “You didn’t _choose_ me, I volunteered to help—”

“So! What’s the plan, Kass?” Jaron asked, changing the subject. Amose, though visibly annoyed, seemed to let it go.

Kassani obliged and pointed to a forest tucked between two mountain ranges. “We are here,” she started, before dragging her finger down along a narrow valley that cut between the southernmost mountains. “We can travel through here and avoid the woods. Then, we’ll reach this shore,” her finger landed on the shoreline touching the inlet of water. “From there, we can get passage across the water and make our way smoothly to the capitol.”

Jaron nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. “Will we be able to sail across quickly? That port town is pretty small. They don’t often sail across the inlet.”

Kassani hummed in thought. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to get a ride within a day or two. Otherwise, we may have to wait there for a week before anyone’s willing to sail.”

Amose gestured to the wooded area surrounding their current location. “It’s better than going around and getting attacked by magical creatures or bandits.”

“Good point,” Jaron agreed, before grinning broadly. “See, there’s that _experience_ coming in handy already.”

Amose rolled his eyes, “I’m beginning to regret volunteering for this.”

* * *

The sun had risen in a beautiful display of oranges, pinks, and yellows. Now it sat perched in the sky, a warm glow against a deep blue. There were clouds on the horizon, but now, the weather was clear and refreshing.

Callum took a deep breath. Here, the world felt right. It felt big. It made his own worries and stress feel smaller. From the pinnacle of the spire, it was almost as if the entire world was whispering to him. As if the wind itself carried the lessons of the past, the truths of the present, and even the secrets hidden in the future. Ever since his connection to the Sky Arcanum all those years ago, he had felt connected to the wind, but here atop the highest place in all of Xadia, his connection felt stronger.

He closed his eyes, reflecting on their meeting with Queen Zubeia yesterday morning.

_“There is darkness at play,” Zubeia had said. “More than usual.” Zym sat at her side, fidgeting, but staying silent._

_“Here in Xadia, Your Majesty?” Rayla asked._

_The Dragon Queen blinked slowly as she raised her head. “Here in Xadia and the human kingdoms as well. Ever since the war ended, there is a fear that has turned into something more. Into something evil,” she spoke._

_“Your Majesty, it’s true the world is not used to its newly acquired peace,” Ibis replied in consideration, “But I am unsure if that is a testament to evil or merely the realities of reconciliation.”_

_Callum nodded. “Maybe both. The Pentarchy and Xadia are still healing, sure, but this feels different. Almost unnatural.”_

_Zubeia hummed in agreement. She seemed to have thought carefully before speaking again. “I suspect dark magic.”_

Callum had felt a chill run down his spine at Zubeia words then, and he feels that same chill run down his back again. _Dark magic,_ he thought. While there were others who practiced it, Callum had his suspicions as to who was behind this.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” he heard Rayla’s voice as she approached from behind. “I just finished checking up on our mounts.” He turned around to find her smiling at him. Her eyes shone as they met his, but even in the dazzling morning light, he could see a weight behind them. Though, it should be expected. The meeting yesterday left everyone on a sour note.

“Hey,” he said, stepping to the side and extending one of his arms. She walked up to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, nestling her head near his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her side as his hand found its way into hers. “Ready to leave?” he asked, his cheek lightly brushing one of her horns.

She hummed in thought. “Truthfully, I’m not looking forward to the rushed journey,” she said in a sigh, “But Ezran needs us home quickly, especially after what we all discussed yesterday.”

“We’ll need to ride quickly,” Callum agreed. “With some luck, we could get to Katolis in a little over a week.”

He felt Rayla nod against him. They stood in silence for a few moments, taking in the view and breathing in the fresh air. Callum wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard Rayla speak. “It’s Viren again.”

Callum wondered why he didn’t freeze up at the name. For a brief moment, he wondered if he had grown numb to hearing it, but no, his blood boiled too much at the thought of him. He wasn’t numb, he _hated_ the man. He just no longer feared him. “It is,” Callum agreed, frowning.

“That night… at the castle,” Rayla began, referring to perhaps the worst night of their entire lives. The night Viren stormed the castle, and the last time they had seen their daughter.

Callum’s shoulders stiffened at the memory. It was an illusion that, in a blind rage, they had both fallen for. By the time they had realized what was truly happening, he was already gone. And so was Saraiah. They knew it was only a matter of time before he’d come out hiding, and with the riots and raiding in both Xadia and the Pentarchy getting more and more dangerous, he knew Viren was getting ready to strike.

“He got away, then,” he heard Rayla whisper lowly, feeling her hand tighten its grip. “But he won’t this time,” she resolved.

* * *

True to Jaron’s word, they had left the patrol’s camp that day. They had been riding for hours, and sun was already beginning to fall behind the surrounding mountains. As the cool, evening air blew through Sara’s hair, she shivered and gripped tightly to her horse’s reigns. _Sweet Step,_ she recalled the mare’s name.

Jaron had introduced them before they left camp. She was a willowy horse with long legs and a creamy coat. _“Don’t let her size intimidate you,”_ Jaron had said, reaching up to brush the mare’s neck. _“Sweetie’s the most mild-tempered horse we’ve got, and she’s great at going long distances, she’s just doesn’t like combat.”_

Though Sara didn’t say it at the time, she was grateful he had given her such a calm horse. She’s ridden a horse all of two times in her life, so she’s not the most confident rider. Suddenly, Sweet Step’s foot slipped on a rock causing Sara to jerk to the side. It was a small stumble and the mare easily recovered, but Sara’s heart jumped while her knees glued themselves to the sides of the saddle. _Relax,_ she told herself, knowing her horse must be annoyed at her nervousness.

She sighed and looked around. There were tall mountains on either side of them. Ahead, she made out a thin valley that likely led to the shoreline Kassani had mentioned earlier. If all went well, they’d reach the small port town by tomorrow afternoon. In front of her, Jaron stretched, scouting the area.

“Looking for a place to stop for the night?” Sara asked him.

He twisted to look at her, slowing his horse. “Yeah, I’d like to set up our beds and get a fire going before it gets too dark.” He turned back around and gestured to their surroundings. “This place looks as good as any, don’t you think?”

Sara noted how the woods had thinned out, leaving only a few trees along their path. It left plenty of space for their supplies. “Sure,” she shrugged.

“Okay, it’s settled then,” Jaron nodded. “Let’s set up here for the night, guys!” he called to the rest. Amose and Kassani, who were both riding behind Sara and Jaron, steered their horses off the trail and towards the softer grass. “Sara, you know how to get a fire going, right?” he asked her, jumping off his horse and guiding them both towards where Amose and Kassani went.

“Yeah, I can do that,” she said.

“Great,” he slowed them to a stop and began tying his horse to a tree.

Sara looked at the ground below her, wondering how to smoothly dismount. She imagined herself swinging her leg over the saddle and landing gracefully on the ground, but as soon as she tried to shift her weight to one foot, the stirrup swung to the side and she nervously gripped Sweet Step’s neck to keep her balance.

She heard a low laughter at her side, and she turned to glare at Jaron. “Need help?” he asked.

“Pff, No,” she said with a false confidence and tried again. Her right leg wobbled in the stirrup while she tried to slowly move her left leg over the saddle. Then, the saddle shifted along with her weight and she yelped before swinging herself the other direction to keep her balance. Rather than keeping her balance, however, she over corrected and began sliding off the horse. She closed her eyes tightly shut, preparing to fall and hit the ground. But before she fell off, she felt a firm hand grab her arm while another held her lower back.

“I think you do,” she heard Jaron whisper playfully at her side before guiding her off the horse.

Sara’s face heated in a blush she hoped he couldn’t see. “I-I’m not great with horses,” she mumbled under her breath, avoiding his gaze.

He laughed, “I can see that.” He looked at her with an amused smile, “Hopefully you’re better with fire,” he said.

His face was still close to hers, and his hands still held her, one on her on her arm and the other on her back. When she locked eyes with him, her mind felt fuzzy. His eyes, a light icy blue, seemed so familiar. Like a distant memory that had buried itself over the years. She wondered if they’d met before… but that’d be impossible, wouldn’t it?

Then, he shook his head and let go of her. “Uhh… the fire,” he said, as if coming out of a trance. “Can you, uh, can you get firewood, too?”

“Um,” she said, still feeling a bit confused. There’s no possible way they had met before, but still. His eyes… She blinked, shaking herself out of her daze. “Yeah, I can get firewood. No problem.”

“Cool,” he gave her a thumbs-up and a tight smile before turning and walking towards Amose and Kassani. She frowned as she watched him walk away. _How strange,_ she thought. Shrugging it off, she left to gather some kindling.

_________________________________________________________________

A few hours later, Sara laid awake in her cot, looking up at the sky. The fire she had (successfully) started still crackled nearby. The horses stood silently, though every so often she could hear them swish their tail or shake their heads. Above her, the moon shone in a brilliant white that lit up the starry sky. Suddenly, her life had changed so much. Not even a week ago she was living on a small farm with her adopted family, but now she was on a journey to the capitol of Katolis with people she had only just met. Within a day, her life was completely different. If she were being honest, it was a little frightening.

But the moon was the same. It warmed her, comforted her, just like it always had. Here, under its light, she felt safe.

Amose and Kassani had fallen asleep a few minutes ago, confirmed by their light snoring. Jaron, however, sat up against the rock he had positioned his blankets by. He was concentrating on shaving the bark of a stick with his knife.

Or so she thought.

“Can’t sleep?” she heard him ask her.

She shuffled atop her cot to look at him. “Just thinking,” she murmured. She glanced back up at the sky. “It’s almost a full moon,” she noted.

“It is. Scared of werewolves?” Jaron teased.

Sara rolled her eyes, “Ha ha,” she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. “I just didn’t know it was so close to being full.”

He reclined against the rock he’d sat himself up against. “Yep, the moon’s like that; always getting full then not full,” he laughed as he slapped his own stomach, “I can relate!”

Sara giggled lightly at his antics, shaking her head as she turned her gaze back towards the starry sky. She had always felt a strange sort of peace wash over her under the light of the moon. It felt so… _warm_. Some nights at the orphanage, when the moon was at its fullest, she’d sneak out and stand under the night sky just to breathe in the air. She felt so alive in those moments.

Jaron must’ve noticed her contemplative stare because she could see him looking at her through the corner of her eye. “Does the full moon mean something to you or are you just a fan of astrology?” he finally asked, turning towards her and propping his head up from the rock with his hand. His tone was sarcastic, but it carried a sincere curiosity.

She really didn’t feel like explaining herself. The last time she had ever told this to anyone was when she was twelve and all the girls in the orphanage were talking before bed. When she shared, they had laughed and called her a weirdo. Instead, she turned back to him, unamused. “Can’t a girl just like the moon?” she replied.

“Can’t a boy just ask a question?” he countered, grinning broadly.

She frowned, knowing he’d won. “Ugh,” she huffed, uncrossing her arms and gesturing lamely at the sky. “I dunno, the moon just makes me feel at ease,” she rushed in a defensive explanation.

Jaron looked up at the sky. “At ease?” he asked.

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment. He’d laugh at her for sure. “Like, you know how the sunlight can feel nice to sit under?” she explained, “The moonlight is kind of like that. Warm and fuzzy feeling.”

Jaron snorted, “The moonlight feels _warm_ to you?”

She looked at the ground, “I guess,” she mumbled. It was hard to explain. It wasn’t an external warmth, it felt more internal. But she saw no need in making herself seem like more of a freak than she already felt like.

“Huh,” Jaron said after a while, shuffling against the rock, “Cool.”

Sara quickly turned to him, confused. “ _Cool?_ ” she repeated, “Not ‘weird’ or ‘stupid’?” she asked.

He looked incredulously at her, “Oh no, it’s _definitely_ weird. But it’s not _stupid._ It’s cool. It’s good to feel connected to things, you know?”

 _Connected,_ Sara wondered. Perhaps that was a better word for it. She smiled softly at him, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He shrugged, “Sure. Or maybe take it as a sign that you’re a werewolf.”

Sara grit her teeth in annoyance, picking up a nearby rock and tossing it at him.

“ _Ouch!_ What the hell, woman!” he cried, cradling his shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she scoffed, lowering her voice in mocking tone, “Maybe take it as a sign that you’re a _jerk!_ ”

He raised his hands in defense. “Listen, I just want to make sure I know everything about you. I need to know the facts. I don’t want my myself or my patrol to get eaten in our sleep during a full moon,” he said, feigning a worried tone.

She gave him a dead look before grabbing the nearby blanket and tossing it over herself. “You want the facts? Okay, here they are. You’re an ass, and I’m going to bed,” she said plainly before turning over and laying down with a huff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. This has been a fun story to dive into, and I'm excited to get to some of the plot points I want to develop. I'm just kinda writing as I go, so I'm flying by the seat of my pants on this one, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless. Let me know what ya'll think!
> 
> Catch you in the next update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

The rest of their journey to the small port town went smoothly. Sara passed the time by gazing at the clouds, finding shapes as they rode. It was relaxing. Today, she wasn’t as tense. The nerves of riding had lessened, and she’d grown at least a _little_ more confident. The small victory was comforting, though she was unsure if it was worth how sore her legs were.

As they maneuvered their horses to a small inn just off the shoreline, Sara watched the lazy little port town move about. There were a few fishermen chatting by the docs, others casually strolled down the cobblestone path, while a few went in and out of what Sara could only assume was a market. Her stomach growled at the thought of food that wasn’t burned over campfire.

Kassani must’ve noticed her hungry glance. “We can grab a bite after we’ve made sleeping arrangements at the inn,” she said.

“Some real food will be nice,” Sara commented, glancing back on her horse to where Kassani rode behind her. “I think I’ve had one too many charred rabbits.”

Jaron scoffed ahead of them, “I told you, the char adds flavor.”

Sara rolled her eyes, despite Jaron being unable to see her reaction. “You’re right, it does add flavor. A terribly bitter, dry, burnt flavor,” she replied sarcastically, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

Kassani laughed from behind. “It’s an… _acquired_ taste,” she said playfully.

“Well, then it’s one I don’t want to acquire,” Sara mumbled.

Jaron slowed the groups pace as they approached the inn. Sara looked it over and wondered how often they had visitors here. There was an old wooden sign that was posted in front with worn, carved letters that read, “Fisher’s Wharf Inn.” Underneath it, she could barely make out the word, “Welcome.” If she had to guess, not a lot of new faces came through here.

They all dismounted, and Sara took a moment to gather her courage before widely swinging her leg over Sweet Step’s saddle and landing firmly on her feet. She winced as a dull pain shot up and down her legs. _Yep,_ she thought bitterly, _I’m definitely sore from riding._ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amose walk into the Inn after saying something to Jaron. Squaring her shoulders, Sara tried her best to walk normally towards the others, but it felt as if she was waddling like an angry, overconfident duckling.

“You didn’t fall down this time,” Jaron noted as she approached them, referring to her near accident the first time she tried dismounting from Sweet Step.

Sara shrugged, “I’m full of surprises, I guess.”

Jaron seemed amused, “You know, given the short time I’ve known you, I don’t doubt that.” He pointed his thumb behind him towards the doorway. “Amose is already inside talking to the innkeeper. You can follow him inside. Kassani and I can grab the bags and bring them in.”

Sara frowned, “I can help with carrying things.”

Jaron shook his head. “Not saying you can’t, but you’re walking like a newborn colt,” he said while walking past her to where Kassani was already tying up the horses. “I figured your legs could use a rest.”

Sara’s face flushed. _He’d noticed,_ she thought embarrassedly. She glanced down at her wide-footed stance. She wondered if she should play it cool and say it wasn’t all that bad, but she already made a fool of herself yesterday for similar reasons, and she had no intention of repeating that mistake. “I-I’ll meet you both inside,” she said under her breath as she turned and toddled through the inn’s entryway.

As she got closer to the counter, she overheard the conversation between the innkeeper and Amose. The innkeeper, who was a small, frail old man, nervously conversed.

“…I-I see… and how many, um, _others_ are with you?” the innkeeper asked with his bony hands nervously wrapping around themselves. He seemed to look anywhere but Amose’s face. It was almost funny, next to Amose’s tall, broad frame, the man looked nearly infinitesimal.

“Three,” Amose responded coolly, “Four of us in total.” He seemed annoyed, but his voice remained neutral. She wondered if there was some sort of issue. Perhaps they didn’t have enough rooms? Though that would be strange considering how few people she noticed while riding through town.

As Sara got closer, she saw the innkeeper turn to her. When his eyes found hers, they looked relieved. “O-oh! Is this one of your companions?”

She furrowed her brows in confusion and answered for Amose. “Um… I am,” she said slowly. While walking to stand next to Amose, she continued glancing strangely at the innkeeper.

Just then, Jaron and Kassani walked in with everyone’s bags. “So which rooms are we in, Amose?” Jaron asked, approaching the counter with a smile.

Amose grunted, “Great question.”

“O-oh my, uh, my mistake. I was just, you see…” the innkeeper fumbled over his words upon seeing the others enter. He reached for something under the desk and pulled out a chain of keys, “I was _just_ getting the keys!” He took off the first two, “Th-these go to the third and fourth door on your right,” he pointed forwards to the stairs behind them, “Upstairs.”

Amose uncrossed his arms and reached for the keys on the table. “Thank you,” he nodded to the innkeeper and then handed one of the keys to Sara. Finally, the situation clicked in her mind. She took the key gingerly from Amose and turned to thank the innkeeper herself but was unable to. Instead, she only locked eyes with the now guilty looking man before turning away without saying a word.

She watched as Amose moved ahead and grabbed his bag from Jaron while they continued upstairs together. He seemed unfazed, contrary to her own bewilderment.

Sara was aware of the fear and prejudice that some of the Pentarchy had with elves. In smaller towns, such as this one, it was common for a human to have never even seen an elf in their lives (even Sara herself had seen very few and she grew up near the border of Katolis). So, while she was perfectly aware of the tension between the two groups, it was unnerving to witness it. Even after all that happened after the war, this old man was clearly uncomfortable with giving room and board to an elf, even if Amose was a halfling. 

Growing up in the orphanage, the only things she heard about elves were from the older kids who would stay up late exchanging stories. They would excitedly whisper about the heroic tales of the elven Princess, the human Prince, and the human King. Or they’d go on to talk about the mysterious lands within Xadia and how magical it all was. None of it was scary or evil. _Those_ stories were reserved for dark magic. To Sara, it seemed as if Elves and Humans were all on the same side, it’s all she’s ever known.

“Here,” Sara snapped out of her daze at the sound of Kassani’s voice. “Your bag,” she said, offering Sara her belongings.

Sara shook her head. “Right, thanks,” she said as she grabbed her bag.

“Lost in thought?” Kassani asked, though the question almost felt rhetorical. It was pretty obvious Sara was distracted.

“Just tired from riding all day,” Sara replied in a half-truth. But to be fair, she _was_ exhausted.

Kassani nodded, eyeing the innkeeper behind them for a brief moment before looking back at Sara knowingly. “Me too,” she said coyly, turning to follow Jaron and Amose upstairs. Sara pushed her thoughts into the back of her mind and made her way to the rooms.

Once they were all settled, (it was decided that Sara and Kassani share a room while Amose and Jaron share the other after Jaron mentioned something about “bro-time”), Sara flopped backwards on to the bed and let out a long sigh.

“Not that I’m used to luxury,” she began, running her hands along the cotton blankets covering the padded bed, “But I’ve missed sleeping on a bed.”

Kassani gave her a funny look, “Hasn’t it only been four days since you left your home?”

Sara turned her head to look at Kassani. “Sure, but I wasn’t really sleeping on a bed there, it was more like a cot. Which is fine, but when I left the orphanage, the last thing I expected to miss were those old beds we slept on.”

A pained look crossed Kassani’s face, and for a moment, Sara wondered if the woman was pitying her. A sour feeling twisted in Sara’s stomach at that thought; the last thing she wanted was pity.

“I get it… You know, I used to live in an orphanage, too.” Kassani finally said.

Sara shifted upwards on her bed, propping herself on her elbows. “Really?” she asked.

Kassani nodded. “A different orphanage, probably, but I remember those beds,” she recalled with a hint of a smile, “They were _not_ comfortable if my memory serves me well.”

Sara scoffed, “They’re better than the floor, that’s for sure.”

“Barely,” Kassani laughed. “Then again, I was adopted into a wealthy family, so my only comparison may be a bit unrealistic. I remember being so awed by the capitol city when I first arrived, and the plush beds were a definite improvement.”

“Pff,” Sara puffed, “Must be nice. The place they sent me was far from that.” She fell back onto the bed with a huff. “Even if I don’t find my family in the capitol, I might just stay there. You guys are making it sound pretty nice.”

“King Ezran does his best to maintain prosperity. The capitol is a good reflection of that,” Kassani says thoughtfully, “I’m sure you’d be welcomed.”

Sara imagined herself in her own home. A crackling fire and sounds of laughter. Books lining the walls, red and gold tapestry hanging around every corner. She could picture two people walking down a long hall, hand in hand. Sara frowned, a strange emotion bubbling in her chest. This home of hers was nothing more than a dream, but there was such a potent familiarity to it.

But that’d be ridiculous.

She shook her head, trying to stop her brain from overthinking. Looking for a distraction, she moved the conversation forward. “Have you met King Ezran before?” She asked.

Kassani hummed, “Several times. Sometimes King Ezran attends the Crown Guard assemblies, so I’ve seen him there and spoken with him. Though, I’d be surprised if His Majesty remembers me. Jaron, on the other hand, knows the King personally.”

“Well sure, he probably has to give King Ezran reports and all that, right?” Sara shrugged, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.

“He does, but that’s not why. Jaron’s practically a part of the royal family,” Kassani explained. Sara did a double take at Kassani, wondering if she’d heard correctly. Kassani, however, continued as if she’d said nothing strange at all. “His father is Soren, General of the Crown Guard, the same man who fought side-by-side with Lady Rayla, Prince Callum, and King Ezran during the war.” Kassani’s voice fell to a low whisper, “Rumor has it, he’s in line for the throne.”

At _that,_ Sara blanched. “He’s _WHAT!?”_ she exclaimed but was quickly hushed by Kassani. “He’s _what!?”_ she tried again, hissing under her breath this time.

“It’s just a rumor,” Kassani put up her hands defensively.

“Isn’t there some prince or princess or whatever to take the throne? A royal nephew, even?” she asked, her head spinning over the thought of Jaron being an important member of the Royal family—let alone in line for the _throne._ She wasn’t sure why the thought made her feel so uneasy, but it _did._

Perhaps it was because she had been shamelessly making fun of him since they’d met.

“His Majesty hasn’t married, and Lady Rayla and Prince Callum never had another child after the loss of their daughter. _Jaron’s_ the closest thing to a ‘royal nephew,’ so people have speculated that he’s next in line.” Kassani’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, “But I don’t think he’s too keen of the idea.”

 _Not too keen? Why not?_ Sara wondered. “Not that I’m advocating he _should_ be King one day, but wouldn’t it be a great honor to become the next royal bloodline?” Sara asked curiously, “Why wouldn’t he be grateful for it?”

Kassani shrugged, “I’m guessing royalty isn’t as luxurious as some may assume, and Jaron seems to have a bad taste for it.” Kassani looked to her hands that were folded in her lap. Sara could tell there was more to it than simple apprehension.

“Bad taste?” Sara asked, leaning forward.

Kassani hesitated for a moment before looking up and meeting Sara’s eyes. “He was there the night the princess was stolen from the castle,” Kassani said lowly, “That was a dark day for everyone in the castle.”

“Oh,” Sara breathed, imagining the terror that must’ve consumed the castle that night. Jaron would have just been a _kid._ And to lose someone he was close to in a single night… Wait. “Was he close with the princess?” She asked curiously.

Kassani shrugged, leaning back against her bed. “I don’t know, I’ve never asked. If I had to guess, considering how close he is with the royal family, I can only imagine he and the princess were at the very least friendly with one another.”

The imagine of a younger Jaron flashed through her mind. He had shorter hair with rounder eyes and cheeks, playfully wielding a wooden sword. Next to him, a girl. Why was it so easy to imagine? She saw them playing hide and seek in the castle, twisting around corners and racing down halls to escape their responsibilities. If she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn _she_ was the one running down those hallways. _Don’t be stupid,_ she chastised herself. Was she really so deprived for a family connection that she was actually _inserting herself_ into Jaron’s childhood? One that she was _obviously not a part of?_

She needed help. Or sleep. Or both.

A knock sounded at the door. “Ready for food?” a voice called from behind it. It was Jaron.

“Speak of the devil,” Sara mumbled as Kassani stood up to open the door. She ran a hand down her face. Food might help her too; hunger did strange things to the brain, after all.

* * *

“Just another day and we’ll arrive in Braedon, General,” one of the Sunfire guards announced, signing clumsily while walking up to Amaya. _Technically_ she was “Queen Amaya,” but she refused to use the title after her marriage to Queen Janai. With much convincing to the entire Sunfire Guard, they had all settled for addressing her as General.

Amaya nodded, thanking the guard as the elf turned to leave. She was standing alone, a few yards away from the rest of the group.

The long days of travel had made her feel sore. Though she hated to admit it, she wasn’t as sturdy as she once was. These types of trips were becoming more and more difficult to do. She cherished her time in Katolis when she visited, but she wasn’t sure how many more of these trips she had in her. Soren seemed to be handling the Crown Guard perfectly, so she had nothing to be concerned with there. This meant, of course, that other than being able to see her lovely nephews, the only purpose she had in traveling to Katolis was nothing more than superficial diplomacy.

Perhaps she should discuss this with Janai when she returned.

Suddenly, the cool evening air swept up, causing a chill to run down Amaya’s spine. She frowned, moving her hand to hover over her sword as she scanned the area. She felt as if someone was watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move behind the trees. She unsheathed her sword and waved to get her party’s attention. The guards all grabbed their weapons and looked around carefully.

 _Check in the trees,_ she signed, gesturing towards the direction of the shadow she saw. Her sword felt heavy in her hands and she struggled to grab her shield. _It may be a bear,_ she tried to rationalize, but something within her disagreed. This wasn’t a bear.

She saw one of the guards step into the denser wooded area, behind the brush where she had seen the shadow. A few seconds ticked by before she saw the leaves rustle and the guard was running back towards their camp, a terrified look on his face. Amaya could barely make out the word “monster” from his lips as he ran.

She rushed over as quickly as she could, her shield raised and eyes alert to any danger, the rest of the guards did the same. From out of the woods, a black creature emerged. It had glowing purple eyes and its body looked as if it were made from black flames. It seemed to snarl at them as it stalked forward.

A different guard stepped forward, slashing through the creature with their sword, but to no avail. The sword swiped clean though, but the creature remained unharmed.

Panicked, the rest of the party charged forward and tried to attack the beast, but no one was able to do any damage. Their weapons had no effect.

 _It’s a creature made from Dark Magic,_ she reckoned, remembering how Callum once blew a pack of these monsters away with a spell. Of course, neither she nor her party knew any wind magic, so she looked around in search of an alternative plan while the guards tried to fend off the creature.

Her eyes landed on their campfire. She ran towards it and grabbed a stick burning at the end. Wielding the make-shift torch, she approached the beast and swung the flame towards it. It ducked away and took a few steps back, avoiding the fire. Amaya smirked, thinking she had it beat. _It must be scared of light,_ she thought.

But as soon as she brought the torch back to her side, the monster leaped forward and dissipated into smoke, filling her lungs. Amaya heaved and coughed, spluttering helplessly. She collapsed forward, barely having enough time to stop her fall with her hands. She gasped for air, trying to focus all her attention on regaining her breath. As her vision blurred and she fell to the ground, she knew she didn’t have much time before she would pass out. She limply held up her hands and tried to sign, _“dark magic,”_ but her fingers went numb. The last thing she saw was one of her guards grasping her shoulders, trying to keep her awake. 

* * *

With a full stomach, Sara sighed contently while she walked a few paces behind the rest. Their footsteps clunked over the wooden pier and she could overhear the lull of the water below her feet. She hadn’t been to the ocean before, but she found it relaxing. Once she got used to the smell of fish, that is.

Over dinner, they discussed further plans for their journey. From the looks of it, they would be able to set sail tomorrow morning. Across the way there was a large port town called Braedon where they would stop to get supplies. Jaron mentioned something about getting a change of clothes. If they were to have an audience with King Ezran, they needed to look presentable. “He won’t care,” he had said, “But the rest of the staff may make a fuss if we don’t at least _try_ to look nice.”

The idea of shopping was daunting to Sara. She hadn’t really _shopped_ before. Her entire life she’d been given clothes and she just gratefully accepted them. The idea of picking something out for herself was… _different_ , let alone picking out something nice enough to wear in front of a King _._ Still, she would be lying if she said she didn’t find the idea a _little_ bit exciting, even if she was nervous.

She glanced to her left to look off the pier. The moon shimmered in delicate lines of silver across the salty water. The way the light reflected off the surface was serene. It made her excited for their upcoming voyage across the inlet. She had never been on a boat before, but it must be thrilling if just _watching_ the water from the land was this breathtaking.

“So, how do you like the ocean?” she heard Jaron ask her. With a start, she turned sharply to find him walking in stride with her, Amose and Kassani a few paces ahead of them now.

“Um,” Sara began, finding her voice. Jaron was looking past her at the ocean. She sighed, returning her gaze to the water for a moment. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted, turning back towards him.

She watched as his gaze shifted to hers and he smiled, “My mother used to love the ocean,” he said, “At least, that’s what Dad says.”

There was a dull sense of longing in his words, but the grief felt old and weathered. “I can see why she did, it’s almost mesmerizing,” she responded, listening to the way the water lapped against wood. “Your mother… did you lose her when you were young?” she asked.

Jaron nodded, “When I was a few seconds old, actually. She died in childbirth. I didn’t get to know her, but Dad would tell me lots of stories while I was growing up. He’s such a sap,” he said with a low chuckle. “I’m grateful for it, though.”

“You grew up in the castle, right?” Sara asked, trying to act as if curiosity wasn’t getting the best of her. It shouldn’t _matter_ if Jaron was basically royalty, but she really wanted to know. She told herself it wouldn’t change their friendship, though that was probably overly optimistic. She clutched her pendent nervously. She didn’t even have a family… and she expected to maintain her silly friendship with (potentially) a future King?

Jaron eyed her suspiciously. “…I did…” he said cautiously. He crossed his arms and playfully bumped her with his shoulder. “If you’re looking for information on the secret passages, you’re not getting _anything_ out of me,” he said, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy by the King himself.”

Sara rolled her eyes, her nervousness momentarily forgotten. She tried to hide her smile, lest he get too much reward for his teasing. “I was just wondering what that was like, is all. I mean, growing up in the King’s castle? Must’ve been pretty cushy,” she explained. “I assume you’re close with the Royal family, too.” She was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye now.

Jaron frowned, “It was, and I am.” He turned to her and crossed his arms. “Where are you going with this?” he asked, his posture stiffening.

 _Where am I going with this? I just wanted to know if—Oh._ Sara paled and realized how fishy her comment sounded. Jaron probably thought she was asking for money or political power like some kind of gold-digger. “Oh god no,” she shook her head swept her hand out in front of her in a cutting motion. “Nonono, I’m not—I’m—I’m not looking for your _money_ or anything, I swear!” She looked to find him staring at her with a single eyebrow raised. “I…I was just, um… _curious_ ,” she finished lamely.

He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and wariness. “Uh huh. And _what_ are you curious about? The daily routine of the castle? The schedule of the guards outside the castle gates? Because that would seem a bit suspicious,” he said teasingly. Though Sara wondered if he was fully teasing.

She groaned and tried to come up with an excuse. “I’m just… trying to have simple conversation,” she said vaguely. “Besides, doesn’t everyone dream about growing up in castle? About being a prince or princess?” she asked, trying to brush off his concern.

“Did _you?”_ he asked, mischief reflecting in his eyes.

Sara felt her face heat up in embarrassment. _Yes. Yes, I did,_ she thought bitterly. “You know what, I regret even bringing this up,” She mumbled, crossing her arms with a huff.

Jaron laughed, “I’m sorry, but you _do_ realize how weird your question sounded.”

Sara tugged her hood over her head, “Yeah, well, I do _now._ ” With her hood on, Jaron was completely out of her peripheral, but she could feel him staring at her.

After a brief pause, and a bit more laughing, Jaron continued. “Well, to answer your question again, yes. I grew up in the castle with my Dad. He was a bit busy leading the Crown Guard when I was younger, so I was practically raised by the castle’s staff,” he recalled fondly. “I used to get into a _lot_ of trouble when I was younger. I’d escape tutoring, sneak through hidden passages, play hide and seek… normal kid stuff, really,” He sighed wistfully.

Once again, Sara could feel his eyes on her. When she dared to meet his gaze, she was surprised to see hesitancy in his eyes. Or maybe it was disbelief? Though it seemed crazy, he looked as if he was questioning her very existence. Like he expected her to disappear off the face of this earth. Her cheeks felt warm.

She turned away as he cleared his throat. “Of course,” he led on, his tone dipping lower, “A lot of that had to change when the Princess disappeared. The staff became a little stricter, some of the passages got boarded up, and, obviously, it’s hard to play hide without a friend.”

Sara didn’t dare look at him again. “You and the princess were close, then?”

Jaron nodded, “We were the only kids around, so it was hard _not_ to be friends.”

“No other kids, really?” she asked, surprised.

“Nope. Just us. We even took our studies together, and she would always get in trouble for zoning out. Whenever I would catch her staring at the wall, I’d reach over and—”

Sara felt a finger prod at her left-side shoulder and her head swung to find nothing there except the ocean.

Jaron cackled at her right, “Ha! Exactly that,” he grinned as she turned to glare playfully at him. “Her eyes would always get really wide, terrified that it was the tutor about to scold her again.”

Sara rolled her eyes, “How kind of you,” she said sarcastically. “As someone who is prone to zoning out, I know first-hand how rude of an awakening that would be,” She laughed lightly. “You know, you’re really good at telling stories,” she admitted, keeping her eyes glued to the dock below her feet. “You make me feel as if I were there too.” And it was true. Perhaps it was her overactive imagination, but everything he had said she could vividly picture.

Jaron smiled and tilted his head curiously at her, “You know, when we first met, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew you from somewhere. I think it’s because you remind me a lot of her.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Of the princess?” She asked, flattered at the comparison. Their footsteps began to slow as she and Jaron came to a stop. They were just outside the inn now and Amose and Kassani had already disappeared inside. The ocean breeze picked up suddenly and Sara reached to keep her hood from blowing off, but as she reached up, she felt Jaron’s hand gently pull it downward.

She looked to find Jaron looking carefully at her. There was something behind his eyes that made Sara want to search them and find what was hiding. But as she did, they softened, and he smiled gently.

“Saraiah,” he said, barely above a whisper.

 _Saraiah?_ Something deep within Sara felt like it was waking up. As if that name, and the way it fell from his lips, held _everything._

“Her name was Saraiah,” he repeated, carefully letting go of her hood.

She never knew the princess’ name; it was never shared after her tragic disappearance. While some knew it, uttering it was all but considered taboo. She always wondered if it held some kind of power over people, some kind of _magic_ that would enchant whoever heard it. Perhaps she was right because here she was, hearing it for the first time, and it seemed like the world around her disappeared.

It felt magical.

“—Jaron,” Sara jumped at the sound of Amose’s voice. Jaron tore his eyes away from her own to find Amose standing in the entrance of the inn. “You have the key,” he said, holding out his hand.

Jaron searched his pockets and pulled out an iron key, dangling it in front of him. “Of course! Sorry, we were just on our way up,” he said, turning to her and smiling. “We should rest tonight. Tomorrow’s another day of traveling.”

Sara nodded numbly, reality finally creeping back into her bones. “R-right,” she mumbled, forcing herself to move forward. She brushed past Jaron and slid around Amose while looking apologetically at him. “Sorry for making you wait,” she said as she moved past him. Behind her, she heard him grumble something along the lines of “no problem.”

She moved quickly up the stairs, pausing at the top to glance back. Jaron, now standing next to Amose, was watching her curiously. “Goodnight,” she said quietly, waving at the two of them.

Jaron flashed her a smile, “Goodnight, Sara. Rest up,” he threw her a thumbs-up as she turned away and retreated into the room she shared with Kassani.

 _Saraiah,_ she repeated to herself. The name felt easy, like a balm to her heart. _What a wonderful name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No art this time... sorry! If I end up drawing the little scene I had planned I'll obviously update and upload it to this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter felt more difficult to write. In general, my creative writing skills are feeling drained lately, which means this all feels very... meh. Despite that, I'm enjoying myself! I just don't entirely LOVE the finished product. I had to do quite a bit of editing, and if I stared at it more I'm sure I'd edit even more. But eventually enough is enough and, well, here we are. 
> 
> Hopefully you were all able to stay engaged and entertained! I'm excited to start getting into the plot of this. Well... the dark-magic side of the plot, at least. Obviously you saw a peek of that with Amaya earlier in this chapter. 
> 
> As always, let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was a quick update, but I was looking forward to editing and finishing this chapter. I definitely won't be updating this frequently in the future, haha! I'd like to give a real quick thank you to all of you guys who are reading and sharing your thoughts with me. It's been so much fun to write this and all of your support has been greatly appreciated. 
> 
> There's not too much to say other than enjoy.

_Image desc: Amose and Kassani in their armor._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

“Make way!” guards yelled as they rode through the city streets. Their large mounts swiftly made their way through the commotion. Frightened, people rushed away from the road, some shouting angrily at the guards while others simply glared. Sunfire guards were not a common sight outside of Lux Aurea, and they were _certainly_ not a welcomed one within the walls of Braedon.

“Get out of the way! The General is injured!” they continued to yell. _This_ caught a woman’s attention. She turned to see the guards as they rushed past, heading straight towards the hospital. _Was it a general, or The General?_ she wondered. Though, it would only make sense if it were _The_ General. After all, any other Sunfire general would have no reason to be passing through Braedon. It must be _The_ General returning from or to the capitol. It _must_ be Amaya.

The woman grew rigid at the thought. General Amaya in Braedon? Were they simply passing by and this was the closest place to find a medic? The woman frowned and drew her hood over her head, turning away from the crowd. _No,_ she thought bitterly, _this must be more than a simple coincidence._

She cursed under her breath, ducking through the crowd and returning to her home. _Place,_ she corrected herself. “Home” didn’t really exist anymore. When she arrived, the fire was lit, and she could hear jovial laughter coming from inside. It almost felt welcoming.

_Almost._

As she walked inside, she could feel the warmth of the fire, but it did little to relax her. “Hey, Dad,” she greeted, taking off her cloak and her bag.

There were a group of men sitting around a table, empty glasses in front of each of them. When she spoke, they all looked at her and grinned, “Hana!” they greeted her in return. She smiled numbly at them.

“We were just finishing up,” her father spoke. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard absentmindedly and he addressed the rest of the group. Over the years, she realized, it had gotten much lighter. His hair was more salt than it was pepper these days, and it made her remember how long they had been keeping this all up. “It’s been wonderful catching up. We’ll all talk again soon.”

The men departed, each nodding and stepping around her as they passed through the door. She closed it behind them when the last one left, turning towards her dad. “Another meeting? She asked curiously, taking a seat across from him.

She could tell he sensed her disapproving tone when he frowned at her. “It’s all for good reason. They’re influential men in this city—in _Katolis_. If they’re on the same page as we are, then the rest of this kingdom is soon to follow.” He sighed, changing his expression to a polite smile. “I don’t want to argue. How was your day, Claudia?”

Hearing her name made her shoulders finally relax. She wasn’t good at this whole _charade_ thing, despite doing it for over twenty years. _A majority of my life_ , she realized bitterly.

“Fine,” she took a deep breath, smiling genuinely at her dad. “I was able to find a few ingredients for some spells, so my little trip outside the city was worthwhile,” she gestured to her bag, which she had set by the door when she walked in.

Viren nodded, pleased to hear this. “That is good news indeed. The men tonight expressed their… _opinions_ against Xadia. I do believe our plan is working at last,” he leaned forward, reaching towards her hand and grasping it gently. “And I couldn’t have done it without you, Claudia.”

Her smile faltered, but she squeezed his hand back. She refused to meet her father’s eyes, guiltily looking away. She pulled her hand back towards her, sucking in a breath. “Listen… Dad… I—” she sighed, “Is this really all worth it to you?”

Viren sat up, his back against the chair, and looked down his nose. Claudia didn’t _see_ his expression, she was too busy avoiding his eyes, but she had seen it many times before. Though, it wasn’t often aimed at her. “Are you having doubts, Claudia?” he asked carefully.

Claudia scoffed, trying to wave off his concern with a simple flick of her wrist. “Pff, _no,_ of course not! _Me_ having _doubts?_ No-no, I just…” She gestured aimlessly with her hands, looking anywhere but him. “I just thought that _maybe_ we could, oh I dunno, retire early, maybe? You know… pass the torch to someone else, so to speak.”

“Claudia, you _know_ how important this is. Not just for me or you, but _all_ of The Pentarchy! Who could handle such a responsibility other than ourselves?” His voice was raising, and Claudia was tempted to just say she was joking and to forget this ever came up, but the guilt that had been twisting in her stomach for years was becoming too much. If Amaya was in Braedon, then they would have to deal with her somehow, and she was tired of adding skeletons to her closet.

Claudia shrugged once again, lamely pointing towards the door. “Well, how about your _opinionated_ friends for a start?”

Viren stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor as he did so. “Have you forgotten what that treacherous creature did to me!?” he asked, his hand laying indignantly on his chest.

She closed her eyes, wincing at his words because _no._ No, she had _not_ forgotten. That memory, along with many others, plagued her. As if it were happening all over again, she watched her Dad plummet to his death from the top of the Spire. _The elf_ was falling after him. She remembers the sickening _crack_ of her father hitting the ground. She had waited then, in shock, for the other body to fall, but it never did.

Her father’s hand gently cupping her cheek shook her out of her memory and she barely brought herself to meet his eyes. The years had aged him since that day. They had aged her as well. “And if it weren’t for you, my beautiful daughter,” he spoke softly, “I wouldn’t be here.”

She had fallen to her knees next to him that terrible day. Her hands had shakily reached for his body, his head bent at an unnatural angle. The only thought that could run through her brain at the time was, _Fix this. Fix this. Fix this. Fix this!_

“That’s why I need you,” Viren explained, “Your _father needs_ you, Claudia.”

She turns away, blinking back tears. “Of course, Dad,” she whispered, smiling, but knowing it didn’t reach her eyes. “Anything for you.”

He sat back down. “Please,” he folded his hands over the table, “It is _I_ who would do anything for _you._ You’re my daughter. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Claudia sighed, reaching to grab his hand this time. “And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” A twinge of guilt bubbled up in her chest when she said that, but not because she was lying. She’d stay by her father’s side through anything, even after the events twelve years ago. It was the fact she stayed that caused her guilt.

He smiled, and she saw a flash of the man she thought she knew. “How about some tea?” he asked. _Tea?_ she wondered. Maybe it would help her relax.

Claudia hummed, “Sounds _lovely,_ ” she answered. As he stood up, she suddenly remembered the reasoning for her sour demeanor—the news she had heard in the streets. While she didn’t want to face Amaya, she needed to keep herself and her father safe. “Oh! Uh, but before that, I do have something to tell you.”

Viren quirked his brow, “And what is that?”

“I’m _pretty_ sure Amaya is in town.”

* * *

As it turns out, boats are _not_ fun.

Boats are bad.

Boats are _very_ bad.

Sara laid on the deck of the boat, looking up helplessly at the sky. Her skin was going to burn to a crisp, but she didn’t dare move to the shade. Every movement she made caused her head to spin and her stomach to churn. She groaned, lifting her arm to cover her eyes.

She heard footsteps approaching behind her. Judging by the playful lilt in each step, she had a good guess at who it was. They stopped a few feet away from her head. “Why so down?” she heard Jaron ask her playfully.

She moved her arm down and glared at him, partially out of annoyance, partially to block the sun. “Why are you so _up?”_ she asked deliriously.

His eyebrows shot up, clearly having trouble registering just how stupid her response was. He blinked a few times before leaning down to feel her forehead. “You need some water,” he said. When he tried to help her sit up, she squirmed away.

“Nooo,” she whined, “I can’t _move_.”

Another heavier set of footsteps approached. “Motion sickness,” Amose’s low voice announced.

Jaron sighed, “Seems like it.”

Sara frowned, scrounging up the courage to look up at both their faces. “What? _Motion_ sickness?” she asked.

Amose nodded, “Sometimes it causes headaches, other times it causes nausea. In worse cases, it causes both.”

Sara let her head fall back against the deck, wincing when it worsened her headache. “I’m sorry, _how_ exactly did I form an allergy to _motion_?”

She heard Jaron laugh, and before she could be offended at his mockery of her pain, he was gently grabbing her shoulders and helping her sit up. “Some cold water and shade will help,” he said, “Come on, let’s get you somewhere cooler."

She obliged, or she liked to think she did. In all honesty, she didn’t have much of a choice. Any sudden movements made her world turn upside down, so it’s not like she could’ve resisted.

“I’ll get some water,” Amose offered, disappearing below deck.

Though she tried to ignore it, she felt Jaron’s hand carefully lay on her lower back as he ushered her towards the shaded area of the boat. Pale as she may be at the moment, a bit of color rushed back to her cheeks. He brought her to the gunwale and leaned her up against it. “It might be a good idea to stay on your feet for a little while,” he suggested.

She glanced at him before looking back out at the sea. “Mhm,” she murmured. His hand was still resting on her back. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was comforting.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat and removed his hand, stepping back and leaning against the gunwale a few inches away from her. “So uh, I take it you didn’t know you get motion sick?” he asked, turning his face towards her.

She shook her head, frowning. “No. There haven’t exactly been many opportunities for me to discover it either, I haven’t done much traveling,” she explained.

“None whatsoever?” Jaron asked incredulously, and when she didn’t respond, he shook his head. “Damn, did they have you locked up in a tower at that orphanage?” There was teasing in his tone that caused Sara to smile. “Is your name actually Rapunzel and should I be worried about an evil witch chasing me, looking for their stolen princess?” he jested.

Sara shifted to look at him, smirking and crossing her arms. “Are you assuming you’re the knight in shining armor to my Rapunzel?” she asked accusingly, poking his chest.

His smile turned to a cocky grin, “Never said that.” He stepped back and gestured at himself, “But I _am_ a knight and I _do_ have shiny armor.”

Sara laughed, feeling her nausea begin to subside. It was still there, but she felt a _lot_ better than she had a few moments ago. And hey, even if she had to suffer through motion sickness, at least she had good company.

“Here’s some water,” Amose spoke behind them. Sara turned to see him holding out a canteen which she eagerly accepted.

“Thanks,” she said as she took a sip.

Kassani emerged from below deck, holing her bow in one hand while holding a cloth, string, and leather bindings in the other. She approached Sara, looking her up and down. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked curiously, sitting on the ground against the mast.

Sara nodded, “Motion sickness, apparently,” she said with a shrug, “But I’m feeling better now.” She watched inquisitively as Kassani sat her bow on her lap and began wiping it down with the cloth.

Jaron scoffed and folded his arms across his chest disapprovingly. “We’re literally on a boat in the middle of the sea with nothing to do, yet you’ve still found a way to be productive,” he huffed.

Kassani gave him a side-eye, “You say that like it’s a bad thing, _Commander_.”

Jaron frowned, “All I’m saying is that you’re allowed to relax.”

Kassani sighed, inspecting the ties on her bow before adjusting them. “I am. This is relaxing. I’m relaxed,” she said simply, turning to look between Jaron and Amose. “You two have swords and rely on close combat. _I,_ however, rely on _this,”_ she lifted her bow.

Sara leaned forward to look over Kassani’s bow. It had a sturdy build and was fairly simplistic, aside from the engraved carvings on the metal wrappings. “Don’t you have a sword?” Sara asked, knowing Kassani had a sheath attached to her armor.

“I do, but I don’t prefer to use it,” she responded.

“Kass is always in the back, ready to let loose on anyone who’s sneaking up on us. It allows Amose and I to fight the bigger guys up close,” Jaron explained, stretching his hands above his head. With a sigh, he seemed to relent, “But if Kass is tuning up her weapon, we may as well tune up our own, Amose.” He stepped away from the gunwale and pointed his thumb towards the center of the main deck. “Care for a spar?”

Amose shook his head, “No way, not in this heat.”

Jaron’s brow furrowed in the beginnings of a pout. “Oh, come on, it’s not _that_ hot,” he reasoned. Amose, though, did not change his mind.

Sara took another gulp from the canteen, feeling a thousand times better. While she capped it and tossed it back to Amose, she shrugged. “I’ll spar with you,” she suggested.

Jaron turned to her, surprised, but said nothing.

Feeling all eyes on her, she quickly clarified. “I know absolutely _nothing_ about sparing, but I’ve always been pretty quick on my feet, and…” she looked around, “There’s nothing else for me to do.”

Jaron peered questioningly, “You were barely able to stand up a few minutes ago and now you’re ready to fight?”

“Quick on my feet _and_ quick to recover,” she said, grinning. “What, are you chicken?” she taunted him.

At that, he laughed, turning to walk into the center of the main deck. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!”

Sara followed behind him, watching closely as he took his fighting stance. His legs were firmly planted, and his arms were tucked towards his sides. Was she supposed to stand like that? She glanced down at her feet and saw that they were pointed slightly inward towards one another. Meanwhile, her arms were still laying limply at her sides. She looked cluelessly back at him.

He tilted his head in amusement, raising a single eyebrow. “Is… _that_ your fighting stance?”

She shuffled indignantly at his words. “I _told_ you I didn’t know anything about sparing!” she defended herself.

He stood up straight and began to walk towards her, “Well, forgive me, but you called me a chicken. I assumed you’d be able to at least back up your taunt a _little_ bit,” he chuckled.

She stood still as he walked behind her. “What’re you—”

Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, gently holding her steady as he spread her feet out with his own foot. “Like this,” he instructed, his voice close to her ear. Your dominant foot is going to point towards your opponent, while the other foot should have its heel raised off the ground a little bit.”

Ignoring the blush creeping up her neck, she listened to his words. His hands stayed on her shoulders while she adjusted her feet. “L-like this?” she asked, glancing down.

He inspected her feet before stating his approval, “Good, exactly.” His hands moved down to rest on her arms, bringing one back while moving the other forward. “Now,” he said, his breath tickling her cheek, “Keep your elbows in.” Wordlessly, she tucked her elbows close to her sides. She felt Jaron let go of her and step back, walking around to face her.

When she met his eyes, she was surprised to see pink dusting his cheeks. Maybe the heat was already getting to him.

“Lookin’ great,” he smiled, stepping back a few paces and mimicking her pose. “Keeping your heel up allows you to use your toes for extra momentum when you hit, and with your elbows tucked in, your hands will be up and ready to strike,” he punched a hand forward. “See?”

She nodded, bouncing a bit on her toes. “Okay, that makes sense.”

He took a few steps forward, now only a few feet away. “So,” he began, “When someone comes at you, you’re going to either want to dodge or counter. Dodging is pretty self-explanatory, but countering can be a little difficult. It’s all about shifting weight and using your opponent’s momentum against them,” he said.

Something about his words felt familiar, as if what he was saying was simply all review. Of course, she’d never learned how to fight before so that was impossible, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She naturally began to move her energy to her core, leaving her limbs light and airy. _Be fluid, keep light on your feet,_ she heard a voice remind her. Whose, she had no clue.

Abruptly, her world came into focus. She could tell Jaron was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in her mind. As he shuffled towards her and extended his fist, her body simply _reacted._

She quickly turned around and grabbed his arm from behind her, pulling him and forcing his body to lurch forward. She planted her feet and leaned forward, yanking his arm downward. His body flipped over her and his feet flung out from under him, causing Jaron to land on his back with a hard and sudden _thud._

Wait, what?

Jaron laid on the ground, looking just as shocked as she felt.

 _What the hell just happened?_ her head screamed at her. She glanced up at Amose and Kassani to find them both staring at her in astonishment.

Jaron blinked a few times, gathering his wits, and sat up. “Uh,” he coughed as he stood, “ _Yeah…_ just like that.” He peered at her, looking her up and down in disbelief. Honestly, could she blame him? Not even _she had_ any idea where that came from.

“ _Pff_ —That was just beginner’s luck,” she said while rocking back on her heels, awkwardly trying to wave off his suspicion.

“Mhm, right of course,” he said sarcastically, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re absolutely certain you’ve _never_ sparred before?”

Sara shook her head adamantly, “No, I really haven’t. Besides, I think I would’ve remembered something like that.” And yet, she didn’t know where she learned that or _if_ she even learned it at all.

“You’d be surprised what you can forget,” he mumbled under his breath and Sara wasn’t sure if he’d meant for her to hear it or not. “Either way!” he said in a sudden wave of confidence, “It’s clear I can’t go easy on you anymore.”

“Now, hold on, Jaron, I was serious when I said I don’t know—”

“You _literally_ floored me within a second flat. I’m not gonna waltz up to you and let you do that to me again,” he scoffed. He was smiling at her in such a way that it felt like a taunt and she’d be happy to challenge said taunt if she weren’t so nervous. What had happened a few moments ago was an _anomaly._ There was absolutely no way she’d be able to pull that move again.

He sighed, noticing her apprehensive look. “Alright, I get it. My father raised a gentleman. You’re a lady, and you deserve my respect,” he lifted his arms in relent, stepping towards her. She breathed a short sigh of relief before catching a mischievous glint in his eye.

Far too quickly for her to react, he had hooked her arm tightly in his and swung his foot behind her. Her body felt weightless as Jaron pulled her down in one swift motion. With the world spinning around her, she fell onto her side, pinned between his arm and leg. (She’d chide herself later for it because this probably wasn’t the most appropriate thought to have after being tackled by someone, but she didn’t miss the way his arm fit against her waist.)

When she turned to meet his eyes, his face was smug. “Which is _exactly_ why I won’t underestimate you again,” he spoke into her ear, his voice dipping low.

Her face felt warm, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, it wasn’t because of her nausea. Even if her stomach _did_ still feel a little unsettled.

Jaron stood up and extended his hand out towards her. “Alright, let’s try that again. This time, I’ll teach _you_ the move. You know, as long as you don’t throw me over your shoulders before I have the chance to again.”

Sara took his hand, “If you’re such a great teacher,” she began as she pulled herself up, “you should’ve seen it coming.”

“If _you’re_ such a great student,” he countered, “You should’ve listened first.”

Sara laughed, crossing her arms and watching as he assumed his stance. “Hey, I never admitted to being a good student.”

“And I never admitted to being a good teacher, but hey you said it not me,” he shallowly shrugged, “but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Turns out, Jaron was a pretty decent teacher, and she was a pretty decent fighter. She had clumsy footing, but, as Jaron put it, she had “the instincts.” Whatever that meant.

She felt herself shrink under his praise even now, in her cot, alone as she tried to sleep. He had no business being as kind as he was to her. None of them did, honestly. _Is this what friends do?_ She asked herself, _Or have I just gotten lucky?_ She didn’t know. Having friends wasn’t something she was entirely used to. Maybe it was a bit of both.

She turned to her side with a huff, stubbornly closing her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but it didn’t work. Her mind was running miles a minute, drifting from thoughts of Jaron, to the excitement of going to the capitol, _and_ that new pesky thought whispering in the back of her mind. That voice, the one that she heard when she first sparred with Jaron. _Who was it?_ she wondered. If it was even _someone_ at all.

Every time she tried to focus on it, her mind grew fuzzy and the voice faded to white noise. It felt so familiar, so close and _very_ far away at the same time. Perhaps it was something someone told her once, just an insignificant memory she can’t place. Of course, that was the irritating thing. Her entire life, she’s felt strong waves of sentiment, and every time she tries to chase one down, it disperses into nothing. As if she’s _just_ on the edge, but every time she leans forward to fall, there’s suddenly solid ground beneath her feet—like tripping over a step she thought would be there. It was the most infuriating feeling.

She rolled onto her back, heaving a sigh. Moonlight filtered through the cracks of the deck above her. _Maybe I just need some fresh air,_ she thought.

She was careful not to wake the rest as she stood from her cot, stepping over them as quietly as possible. She reasoned she’d go to the back of the ship as to not disturb the captain while he sailed. Though, if Sara were being completely truthful, she’d rather avoid him because he was a bit of a talker and she really didn’t feel like talking. Besides, the ship was plenty big enough for her to go unnoticed.

The second she stepped onto the deck, she felt her body ease. The tension from her shoulders dropped, the knot in her stomach loosened, and her mind immediately cleared. She glanced up at the night sky and smiled wistfully. _Full moon,_ she realized, closing her eyes.

On these nights when she stepped outside, the world felt right-sided. The muddied thoughts that kept her awake turned to clear crystals, shimmering like stars. She wondered if there were any truths to them or if her imagination was simply running away from her, but she could feel herself becoming lost in what she desperately wanted to believe were _memories._

A long red hall. A table full of family. Soft sheets and warm embraces. A party and laughter.

She could almost hear music as figures gathered around her to dance. A gentle hand extended. She took it. They swirled and laughed as she was passed to another. She felt the warmth of a crowd as she turned to see two figures standing before her. The same two figures she always saw but never knew. They stepped closer and opened their arms to her. She tried to make out their faces, but every time she’s about to meet their eyes, they vanish.

A cold chill washed over her, and Sara opened her eyes with a soft gasp. Thunder rumbled overhead as a dark cloud covered her from the moon. Her vision left her, as if it were only the light playing tricks, and she was all alone. Bitterly, she looked up and felt the beginnings of raindrops against her cheeks.

* * *

Lightning cracked in the sky and rain began to fall in sheets against Claudia’s window. The house rattled as the storm raged on. Restlessly, she tossed and turned in her bed, trying to escape her dream.

_There was a boy at her feet while a girl laid limply in her arms. The rain fell against her face as she stretched out her hand, purple tendrils creeping from her fingers._

_“It’s better if you both forget.”_

Lightning struck and Claudia jerked forward, gasping for breath. Her hands were gripping tightly to her sheets. The image of the boy and the girl, and their uncanny resemblance to their parents, stuck in her mind.

Her face felt wet, and when she reached to rub her eyes, she found streaks of drying tears on her cheeks. Had she truly done the right thing? She wanted to believe she had, but deep down she knew that night would be yet another calamity she would one day answer for. But if bad was supposed to be easy, then why had that night felt so _hard._

Twelve years ago, when she brought her father what he needed, he looked so proud. _“You did the right thing, Claudia,”_ he had told her.

Perhaps she had.

She stepped out of bed and opened the bottom drawer to her nightstand. Below the books and scrolls of spells, there was a folded sheet of paper. The creases were so worn it felt as if it would fall to pieces simply by touching it. But she had opened it time and time again, and just like every other time before this, she opened it carefully. As she did, an intricate illustration was revealed. She lightly traced her fingers over it.

It was a drawing of Ezran, Callum, Soren, and herself. Each of them smiling, each of them standing close. They were all so young then, faces slightly rounder, eyes a little brighter. Callum had given this drawing to her as a gift for her birthday—the same year he had run away with Ezran and the elf.

Bitterly, she realized that their friends and family probably looked a lot different now. At the very least, she knew _she_ wouldn’t be in any of Callum’s “family portraits,” as he had called them. Her eyes landed on Soren’s face; a cocky expression sketched loosely on his face. She _missed_ him _so much_. But… He had made his decision, and she had made hers. Her heart broke knowing she’d never be a part of their lives again, but there was a little bit of comfort knowing that at one point she was.

She tucked the drawing away and sat back down on her bed. There was no need to question it anymore.

She had done the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that last scene with Sara on the boat at night was obv inspired by Once Upon A December. I'm thinking I may draw up my own storyboard for that scene since I have it all mapped out, but I'm not sure if I'll have enough free time for that... 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the update. Next stop for the group... Braedon! Catch 'em in the next update :)
> 
> (Also happy Valentine's day! and dw I'm single af too)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for some fan art and updates on this story, follow me on Tumblr @lovelyshere ;)


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